Elder Scrolls: Emperor's Return
by Blade for Hire
Summary: A week after Dagon's defeat, one of the Champions finds something interesting. Could it lead to Tamriel having an Emporer again? Set post-MSQ with several of my OCs. Complete. A/N: TBRS.
1. Chapter I

Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion: Emperor's Return

1

The bandit Brocan looked around at the cavern his gang had set up shop in a few weeks ago. It was perfect: near the road to attack unsuspecting travelers, far enough away from the Imperial City to keep the Legion off their backs, big enough to house all the food and loot they could get, and loaded with good areas that had been laced with various traps. It was a highwayman's paradise. The gang had already nipped some goods from passing travelers. They would be rolling in the money in no time.

Brocan looked around at the room in which he stood guard. The Redguard was quickly replaced by a Khajit to stand watch. Brocan headed deeper into the cave for a round of some well-earned mead. He sat down at the well-lit table with four other bandits and received a drink. As he bottomed it up, no one noticed the sound of scraping metal from further up in the cave. Several minutes of joviality followed before a comment was thrown in the direction of the Khajit on duty.

"Hey! Sh'akra, don't forget to leave your hairballs outside." Brocan laughed.

Sh'akra's response was unusual. Instead of his usual defense of the Khajit race, he was simply silent.

Brocan frowned at being ignored, "Hey! Furface!. You listening?" Again only the darkness replied.

Brocan motioned to another bandit, "Go check on him. Fool's probably asleep again."

The bandit nodded and took another pull from his ale bottle. He started toward the chamber when he was very abruptly stopped short by an arrow flying out of the darkness and spearing him through the throat. The bandit fell to the floor and died with a gasping, gurgling breath. Every weapon in the room was drawn at that point, but it did no good. Two more arrows flew out of the darkness in quick succession, precision shots to the head and neck that took down two more bandits. Brocan couldn't believe his eyes. Three men dead in less than five seconds, four counting Sh'akra. Benrick drew his bow and returned a blind shot into the dark. Even as he released the arrow, a shadowy blur leapt from the darkness toward Benrick. There was a sound of slashing metal and Benrick's leather chest plate burst into a fountain of blood as he fell to the ground.

The shadow then took shape. Before him, with blade extended as though having just slashed, stood a Dunmer in shiny green armor. He held a jet black ebony longsword laid with gold filigree from top to bottom. His back bore an ebony bow and Elven quiver. His red eyes gleamed demonically in the dark.

Arken Dralkes assessed what was left of the situation. He had put down three of the bandits with precision archer fire and two, the guard and the archer, had fallen to his blade. He stood up straight and pointed his sword at the throat of the ringleader, a silent challenge. Arken noticed the bandit trying to secretly pull a dagger in addition to the mace he bore. The bandit quickly threw the dagger, but his secret was out. With an almost careless swing of his sword, Arken knocked the dagger to the floor. Trying to press an already failing attack, the bandit charged the Dunmer swinging. Arken dodged out of the way of the first and second swings, blocked the third with the guard of his sword, and parried the fourth, sliding the mace down the length of the blade. Doing so allowed him to sidestep the bandit. Arken stepped and kicked the man in his Achilles tendon, dropping him to the floor. The Redguard wheeled around, stood to his feet, and swung again. Arken caught the mace on the guard of his blade, twisted his wrist, and spun the mace right out of the bandit's hands. Seeing he had been disarmed, the bandit looked around and saw the dagger he'd thrown earlier. As he started to go for it, lightning quick, Arken sheathed his sword, drew his bow, and drew back an arrow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The bandit froze when he realized Arken was aiming at him. His face appeared as though he were sizing up the situation. As he made another attempt for the dagger, Arken released the arrow and speared the man through the temples, putting an end to his resistance. Arken stowed his bow and looked around. The darkness drew back its concealing shroud thanks to Eyes of the Hunter, the enchanted ring he wore. Stashed in the darkest part of the cave was what Arken came all this way for: a chest with all the bandit's valuables in it. He knelt down in front of the chest and pulled out his lock pick, the Skeleton Key, a gift from a daedra to whom he had rendered a service. He probed the lock and popped the tumblers with practiced ease. After tripping the lock, Arken stowed his pick and opened the chest to reveal a glorious sight. It was filled to the brim with gems, jewelry, an expensive ebony shortsword, and more gold than you could shake a stick at.

Arken smiled in the gleam of the drakes in the chest, "This is why I love my work." As he reached for the gold, he stopped. Something suddenly wasn't right. There was a slight change in the air, meaning someone else was here. When a hand touched his shoulder, Arken spun around to catch the arm, whipped out his dagger, and pinned the man to the floor by his shoulder with the dagger to his throat.

The would-be assailant's response came slightly strangled, "You're not an easy man to find, Arken."

The Dunmer released him and sheathed his dagger, "Baurus, you know better than to go sneaking up on me."

Baurus, a Redguard, one of the Emperor's Blades, was picking himself up off the ground after the humiliating throw down he'd just received, "Fynix told me I might find you somewhere like this. Jauffre wants to see you. He sent me to bring you to him."

Arken looked at Baurus, "Baurus, you and Jauffre both know I'm not a Blade anymore. I resigned my standing not a day after Martin's death."

Baurus simply nodded, "I know that, but Jauffre wants to see you right away. He said it was important."

Arken hung his head and looked back longingly at the chest full of gleaming gold. He wanted go find some ways to spend this money and leave Jauffre to his own problems, but the good nature in him that he couldn't seem to squelch won out in the end.

Arken sighed, "Alright. But this had better be good."

The two warriors rode over a day's ride into the north, out past the city of Bruma in the Jerall Mountains, and on to Cloud Ruler Temple, the great fortress of the Blades. Arken stabled his horse and entered the Great Hall, where he found Jauffre eagerly awaiting his arrival. Jauffre was the Grandmaster Blade, the commander of the order second only to the Emperor. He rose from his seat and greeted Arken.

Arken returned the greeting, "Master Jauffre, might I inquire as to what was so important that you pulled me away from my own affairs to deal with it."

Jauffre ignored the obvious sneer of the remark, "Consider yourself lucky you're not a Blade anymore. Anyway, I have an important task that I need you to undertake."

Arken shook his head, "You know full well you no longer command my services, Jauffre."

Jauffre nodded, "I know that, but none of the other Blades are up to it. We require your particular skills if we are going to get Martin back."

Arken furrowed his brow, "Jauffre, Martin's dead. He was consumed by the Avatar of Akatosh, remember?"

Jauffre just cocked an eyebrow, "Haven't you been in touch with your friend, Fynix?"

"No. I haven't seen him since Dagon's defeat."

Jauffre nodded, "Fynix hasn't left the library to so much as sleep since that day.

"Dunmer don't need to sleep as often as humans."

Jauffre continued, "That aside, every time I see him he has his nose buried in some book about daedric cults and mysticism and Oblivion and such. I think you need to go see him. He seems to have turned up some very interesting information. You'll find him in the East Wing Library. Now, I would like you to…"

Arken held up one finger to silence Jauffre and made his way into the East Wing. There, he found Fynix Nylim, buried up to his pointed ears in piles of books, frantically looking in one volume after another and jotting things down on a parchment. Fynix was a battlemage and alchemist by trade. He was quite a good mage and very intelligent. Fynix was the exception rather than the rule, because there weren't many Dark Elf mages. Arken walked up to him and made no effort to hide his curiosity.

"What's going on, Fynix? Jauffre's lost his mind. He's trying to convince me to do some task to get Martin back even though he was there when he died."

Fynix almost cut him off, "Martin's not dead."

Arken hung his head, "So the madness is contagious. Nix, you and I were both there when he was consumed by the Avatar of Akatosh."

Fynix turned in his seat to face Arken, "Have you ever enchanted something before?"

Arken raised an eyebrow, "Not personally, but I've seen it done."

Fynix continued, "As the soul power is leaving the soul gem into the item, its energies undo the existence of the gem's physical form, reducing it to a pile of gem dust once the gem is empty. THAT is consuming something. I didn't find any traces of ash or dust where Martin was when he shattered the Amulet of Kings. That led me to a thought that I've been researching here for the past week. Though not able to be duplicated by any mere wizard, my research has proven that it is possible."

Arken shrugged his shoulders, "What's possible? Speak Tamriellic, Fynix."

Fynix stood up and leaned on a table, "All the signs point to the fact that Martin was not consumed by the Avatar, but merely traded places with it." Fynix leaned closer, "He's alive!"

Arken shook his head, "Hold on, hold on. What in Dagoth's name are you taking about? If Martin is alive, but isn't here, than where in Oblivion is he?"

Fynix raised a finger, "Exactly. My research indicates that he would be in Oblivion. Where he is exactly though, that's anyone's guess."

Arken dropped his hands in utter confusion, "And I walked away from a chest full of gold for this? All right, so I guess we're going to find a way to open a portal to each of the sixteen planes of Oblivion and search it until we find him. Nix, each plane is the size of all of Tamriel, if not bigger. It would be like looking for a grain of sand in a pile of bonemeal."

"We don't need to search all of them. We only need to search one." Fynix stood and picked up a book as he walked toward Arken, "I've been doing a lot of research on the Nine Divines in the last few days, as well as their counterparts, the sixteen Daedra Princes. The answer was right in front of me, but I was so wound up in trying to find it, I forgot to look at some simple information I learned while at an Imperial fort back in Morrowind. It has come to my attention that the Nine dwell _somewhere_."

The stupefied look on Arken's face would have shamed the dumbest of people, "That was astute. Insult my intelligence again and I'll punch you. Everyone knows that the Nine dwell _somewhere_."

"Yes," Fynix held up his finger, "but do you know where they dwell?"

For the first time in a long time, Arken was at a loss for words, "Umm…Well…Okay, you got me on that one. I take it you know, then."

Fynix nodded his head proudly, "I do. The Nine dwell on their own plane of Oblivion. A seventeenth plane. A…Plane of the Nine, if you will. Also known as..."

Arken shrugged his shoulders.

Fynix was visibly disappointed by his friend's lack of knowledge in this area, "Aetherius, Arken."

Now Arken was beginning to understand, "You know I don't give a guar's tail about religious terminology. So what leads you to this conclusion?"

"Common sense. Think about it. A daedra lord has his own individual altar in the form of his particular shrine. Namira, Boethia, Azura, Mephala, to name a few. How is that any different from the Wayshrines of the Nine, each one with his or her own altar? Daedra can affect mortals and the physical world. The Nine also can affect mortals and the physical. This is simply in keeping with the universal balance of opposites, right and wrong, good and evil, black and-"

Arken put a hand up, "Don't bore me with the philosophy lesson, Fynix. What are you getting at?"

Fynix put the book down and put his hands on the table, "I'm saying that Martin is in Aetherius. All we have to do is get in there and get him out."

Arken nodded, finally making sense of his friend's ramblings, "Right then. So how do we cook up the portal to get us there?"

Fynix finally ran out of words, "I'm…I'm still working on that part."

Arken threw his hands up, "Then this whole conversation is pointless until we can actually do something!"

Fynix nodded soberly, "To tell you the truth, Ark, I'm just as lost as you are when it come to the dimensional plane. This is beyond everything that I know and I'm learning as I go. It's going to require some experimentation on both our parts. Can you trust me on that?" Fynix sat back down behind his table, "I'm going to start with the Mysterium Xarxes and work my way from there. It appears to hold some of the basic knowledge of piecing the plane barrier. If I tie that in with reading up on the ascension of Tiber Septim, I should have something before too long."

Arken nodded, "Just be careful with that book. So what do I do in the interim?"

"I need you to start getting things in line for me. As I come up with the materials for this ritual, I'll need you to gather them. Once I have something that is, first of all, stable and, secondly, going to the right place, I can send you through…"

"Hold on, hold on," Arken put a hand on Fynix's table, "You may be in the dark about this type of magic, but I'm as clueless as they come, and if I'm going to be diving head first into some unknown realm of reality, you're coming with me."

Fynix looked up at Arken with somber look in his eye, "Arken, I don't know if that will be possible. I may need to use myself as an anchor for the portal in this world, in which case, if I go through, it might close behind me."

Arken thought for a moment, "What about one of those Sigil Stones? They worked for Dagon, and it's not like we don't have enough of them."

Fynix's eyes went misty and he sat back in his chair, "Now there's a thought."

Arken furrowed his brow, "What? You mean I was right?"

"No, no, no, you were wrong. But at the same time, you were also right."

Arken glared at his friend, "If you don't start speaking a language I can understand in five seconds, I' going to short-sheet your mage robe."

Fynix shrugged, "Sorry. I mean for an anchor for the portal. The Oblivion anchors were Sigil Stones. And what was the Tamrieli equivalent to the Great Sigil Stone in the Paradise ritual?"

"A Great Welkynd Sto…" Arken stopped short as the thought dawned on him, as well, "You need a Welkynd Stone. That should be easy. You have some of those at your house in Skingrad, don't you?"

Fynix started scurrying through books and parchments again, "Yes, but those are older stones. I'll need one that's fresh, well preserved, straight out of an Ayleid ruin." He paused and looked up at Arken, "Can you get it?"

Arken gave that thief's smile, "Consider it gotten."

Fynix nodded, "Good. I'll see you when you get back. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."


	2. Chapter II

2

Arken stood leaning on a table in the Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple, studying his map of Cyrodill. He knew where he could find several Ayleid ruins that, but there were complications. Could he find a ruin that hadn't been plundered? Would the Welkynd stone he found be sufficient? Arken stared at the map, trying to think of the first place to start.

Jauffre came up next to him and looked down at the map, "So many Ayleid ruins throughout Cyrodill, and yet you seem stumped."

Arken continued to look at the map, "There are factors I need to account for. I think I know of a few ruins that haven't been plundered, but are the Welkynd stones in those ruins fresh enough for what Fynix need?" Arken shrugged his shoulders, "Man, I don't even know what keeps a Welkynd stone 'fresh'."

Jauffre nodded, "A mage friend of mine works a lot with enchanted devices and weapons. He says that in his research, he has found that a large source of magical power can often keep an enchanted item charged. There are even some accounts of unenchanted weapons being left near such a power source for centuries becoming enchanted over time."

Arken scoffed, "Yeah, I'll just go get the library's copy of 'Tamrieli Great Sources of Power'. Come on, Jauffre, I don't want to spend the rest of my centuries looking for this thing. We need to find one that will work or this ritual could backfire…" Arken trailed off as the word "ritual" brought something to mind.

Jauffre shrugged, "Well, maybe you should read up on some of the old Ayleid seats of power. I hear Ayleid kings were also powerful mages. Maybe one of them would have something suitable."

Arken's eyes became distant, "Or maybe I already know where one is."

The Grandmaster looked at him, "Excuse me?"

Arken looked up at him, "You think a Great Welkynd stone counts as a large source of magical power?"

Jauffre thought for a moment, "You know, it might. What are you thinking?"

Arken nodded lightly, "I think I'm going back to Miscarcand. The stones there should still be fresh because of their proximity to the Great Welkynd stone."

Jauffre chuckled, "Should I put Sancre Tor back on your list of destinations, also?"

"Only if Fynix needs the blood of a Divine." He grabbed his bow and quiver from off the bench, "I'll be back in a few days. Have the Blades in the field keep their eyes open for anything, and I mean _anything_, suspicious. The last thing we need is the Mythic Dawn or somebody else getting wind of our little scheme and trying to mess everything up." Arken jogged out of the hall, leaving Jauffre alone. He went out to the stables and saddled Ebony, then began the journey out to find a fresh Welkynd Stone.

The ride out to Miscarcand was a little more than a day's travel and was relatively uneventful, shy of the occasional bandit or animal that wanted to pick a fight. When he arrived in early morning at the camp outside the ruins, Arken hopped off of Ebony and looked around. The ruins seemed relatively undisturbed, but only going inside would truly tell. Arken checked his sword and made sure it was in good condition, then looked at his bow and thought for a moment. He probably wouldn't need it, and arrows were expensive to replace anyway. He set the bow and quiver down next to a tent and turned to the ruins. On the way to the door, Arken took a minute to slip on both Eyes of the Hunter and his Ring of Senses. Eyes of the Hunter's night-eye enchantment allowed him to see in the dark without giving away his position with a revealing light, and the Ring of Senses enabled him to sense any living beings up to forty yards away. He kept his Ring of Shadow in reserve. The one quarter chameleon shadow it provided would come in handy for a stealthy attack.

Without further ado, Arken pushed aside the big stone door covering the entrance and cautiously stepped in. Last time he was here, he was with Fynix, so he had someone watching his back at all times. This time, he as alone, and had to proceed carefully, starting with closing the door after him. He entered the ruins and found things much the same as when he was first here. There were some goblin bodies and bones strewn around in some rooms. Last time he was here, the goblins and some undead skeletons were having a big battle throughout the ruins. That made it quite easy, actually. Just wait for the fight to finish and pick off the weakened winners. Though the ruins seemed at rest now, Arken wanted to avoid attracting unwanted attentions from the ruins new tenants, so he moved as quietly as a master of stealth could. As he moved down the dark corridors, he suddenly sensed a life presence in the next hall. He moved carefully into the hall to see what he was up against. As he inched closer to the presence, he heard the distinctive boney creak of a skeleton.

_Why can't these critters just stay dead?_

Arken peered around the bend. The skeleton was looking his way, so he didn't reveal more than one eye around the corner. He was cast in plenty of shadow, so the skelly had no idea he was there. It was carrying a sizable Dwarven battle axe. The skelly turned around and started to slowly lumber down the corridor, giving Arken his chance to attack. Quieter than a cat, he slipped into the corridor and followed to within sword striking distance of the skelly. He quietly drew his sword and stood to strike, when the skeleton turned around to face him! It hissed angrily and brought its axe around to attack. Without a second thought, Arken instinctively swung for the creature's neck. His blow severed the neck evenly between two vertebrae. Unfortunately, that didn't stop it. Now the skelly just didn't have a head. Arken ducked under its first swing, which was quickly followed up with another…around the opposite side. Arken took a step back. The dumb boney thing was just swinging wildly, unable to see where its target was.

Arken shook his head. _Dumb sod._ He quickly lunged in between swings and landed a sword blow squarely on the skelly's sternum, shattering the old bones and dropping it to the floor in a pile of body parts. The axe hit the stone floor with a loud clank. Arken winced, silently hoping skeletons couldn't hear well. He swept the pile of bones to the side of the corridor and continued on unbothered.

That incident was followed by only a couple more similar encounters. Mostly, Arken would get the drop on the critter and reduce it to a pile of bones before it knew he was there. So far, it was nothing Arken couldn't handle alone, which had him worried. He had a growing bad feeling since he set foot in this place, and it wasn't skellys or goblins.

He rounded a corner to a bridge that crossed over a large room. Off the left of the bridge were several man height pedestals that bore what he was looking for: Welkynd Stones. He hopped down the fifteen foot drop and landed silently in a crouch. After assuring himself that the room was secure, he stood and walked over to the pedestals. He reached up to one of the stones and took it down. He hadn't really noticed when he was here the first time, but these stones were indeed different from others he'd encountered. They seemed brighter and their aura of magicka was stronger.

_If this isn't what Nix is looking for, than my mother's a betty netch._ Arken pulled out the bag that Fynix had made for the trip. Fynix had made a special sack for transporting the fresh Welkynd Stones that would limit any magicka loss during transit. He opened the sack and dropped the stone in, then moved on to the next pedestal. It would be best to have several in case Fynix needed to do some experimenting. Arken took the stone down from its pedestal and looked it over. It was in good condition, so he stuffed it in the bag. He did this with three more, giving Fynix five to work with.

Arken walked up to the last pedestal and took the stone down. It was damaged. A shallow depression went along the width about halfway up the stone. Arken smiled, remembering exactly what did that damage. Fynix had saved his skin from a goblin with a quick swing of his sword. His sword also struck the Welkynd Stone and knocked it from its pedestal. Arken remembered how Fynix about near panicked at his "wanton destruction of such magnificent arcane objects". He carefully picked it up, placed it back on its pedestal, and backed away slowly as though he had incurred the stone's wrath. Arken let out a quiet chuckle at remembering his friend's devotion to the arcane arts.

Suddenly, his smile disappeared. There was a slight shift in the air, similar to when Baurus had snuck up on him. Arken held his breath and listened to the silence. He could hear the quiet metal grind of heavy armor boots on stone. Someone was following him.

"I must say, Arken Dralkes, people say you're hard to find, but all I had to do was follow the trail of corpses and it led me right to you."

Arken frowned at the voice coming from behind him. He had heard it before, and it was associated with many bad experienced.

"So that means that even you could find me, couldn't you, Krayven."

An Imperial clad in toe-to-shoulder Orcish armor stepped out of the shadows. Krayven Harkonus was a name synonymous with evil. He was skilled in long blades and knew enough about the destructive arts to make him very dangerous. That coupled with his evil and whimsical mind, made for a very predictable yet lethal opponent. Krayven would not be here unless it was for a purpose that served his malevolent agenda.

The heavy-set man gave a quick shake of his head, tossing his long blond hair behind his shoulder, "It just made my job easier. I dare to venture a guess at why you're here."

Arken slowly turned around to face Krayven and drew his sword, "I'll be generous and give you three."

Krayven smiled in that sinister predatory grin Arken was all too familiar with, "Oh, I know full well why you're here, which brings me to why I'm here. So why don't you give me those stones you're carrying and we can both leave this place on good terms."

Arken's frown deepened. There couldn't be any good reason why Krayven wanted the Welkynd Stones.

Arken shook his head, "I'd sooner pull all my own teeth and eat a raw guar hide than give you these stones, Krayven."

"That can be arranged, you know." Krayven shifted his cuirass, causing the Elven claymore on his back to click, "All I want is the stones, Arken. Once I have them, you'll be free to go. It's a very simple trade."

Arken took a step forward, "And it's a very simple answer I'll give. I'm not giving you the stones."

The smile on Krayven's face faded, "I already warned you twice, Shadowstep. One way or another, I am leaving here with those Welkynd Stones."

"My life for the stones? You obviously haven't come up with any better threats in the time you've been wandering. Bugger off, fetcher. I have things to do today."

Krayven hung his head slightly, "Pity. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to sweep your ashes out of here. Well, I guess I'd better get started!"

No sooner were the words out of Krayven's mouth did he reach his hand toward Arken and light off a fireball. Arken instinctively put the only thing he had between him and the flame. He held up the Welkynd Stone just in time for the fireball to strike it. The blast blew Arken backward against the pedestal he was in front of. His glass armor clacked hard against the stonework. He blinked a few times to get the flash out of his eyes, when he came to a scary realization. The fireball had knocked his sword from his hand. It was now laying on the floor a good eight feet away from him. Arken looked at his hand and saw it was miraculously unburned, but the Welkynd Stone he'd been holding had created some sort of magical reaction with the fireball that reduced it to glittering dust. Arken didn't mind the dust if it meant he still had his hand.

Krayven's first fireball was quickly followed by another. Arken dove forward and rolled under the ball of flame. As he came up in a crouch, he felt a wave of heat wash over his back as the fireball hit the pedestal. He stood to make a dash for his sword when he was slammed against the pedestal again by a bolt of lightning. The electricity played up and down Arken's body, sparking intense pain in his extremities. Krayven had a nasty tendency to torture his victims with underpowered spells before he killed them. It wasn't powerful enough to kill him, but it was enough to make Arken wish he was dead. Another bolt streaked toward him. Arken's eyes bugged and he rolled around the pedestal. The bolt struck the stone and dissipated in a blue cloud.

"You're only putting off the inevitable, Dunmer! Give up now and I'll make it quick!"

Arken wiped the sweat from his brow. He had to think fast. He was disarmed and confronting a homicidal fiend. He needed to get out of this mess. He thought of something he could do. It was a long shot, but all of his options were risky at this point. He moved to dash toward his sword, but tripped on the way, allowing Krayven to draw a bead on him. He slid to a stop over his sword just as Krayven cast his lightning bolt. Arken winced and prepared for the worst. He felt a mild impact, but no pain, and a purple glow encompassed him for a moment and disappeared. The lightning struck Krayven in the chest and knocked him to the ground. Arken smile at his plan working. The Reflect Spell Amulet he always wore had gotten a taste for the Imperial's lightning when it hit him before. His intentional fall earlier allowed Krayven to get a good aim for the second bolt to hit him, bouncing it back by the amulet's enchantment.

Arken scooped up his sword and pressed the attack. Krayven shoulder-hopped to his feet and drew his claymore. Arken lunged his blade at the Imperial and he deftly parried, followed by a strike of his own. Krayven slid the Dunmer's blade off of his, continued in around in a spin, and came at him sidearm. Arken bent backward away from the strike, the blade nipping at the tips of his hair, and caught his fall with his free arm. He swung a foot through where Krayven was standing and clacked his boots together, causing him to lose his balance and stagger back while Arken got to his feet again. Arken rushed toward the man with a power swing, connecting the two blades at the guard and locking the two opponents in a corpse-a-corpse. Arken pushed against Krayven, who likewise pushed back.

Krayven grunted through gritted teeth, "You're not walking out of here, Dunmer."

Arken smiled. He then abruptly dropped down and swept a low roundhouse under Krayven, landing him on his back.

Arken cracked his neck, "Yeah, well, I've heard that before." He brought his sword down in an overhand chop that Krayven blocked hard. He parried Arken's blade aside and rolled backward onto his feet. Arken shook his head. He didn't know how anyone could be that agile wearing that much metal on their body. Idle thinking aside, Arken had a bigger problem. Krayven used the space between them to wind up an overhand power strike that could cleave a man's head in two. Arken grabbed the end of his blade with this free hand and held it up to catch the strike. The force of the blow knocked Arken to his knees, but he held against the pressure Krayven was putting on the claymore. Arken was at a disadvantage now, because Krayven could put his weight into it and slash the tip of his blade down Arken's chest. Quickly, Arken rolled away from Krayven onto his back and donkey-kicked him in the abdomen. The Imperial doubled over from the force of the blow, giving Arken time to shoulder-hop to his feet.

Arken took a breath while Krayven reeled from his last move. They were too evenly matched. This had to end or they could be fighting all day. He looked around for the bridge he came into the room on. They had fought their way to within about six feet of it horizontally, and it was fifteen feet up. Arken concocted a plan. Krayven was coming back with another overhand attack. Arken narrowed his eyes. This would require _flawless_ timing. Krayven swung his blade down. With practiced timing and blinding speed, Arken sidestepped the swing, allowing the claymore to hit the stone floor, and stepped on the tip of the blade. He then brought his other foot up to step on Krayven's hands, then continued upward, stepping on his shoulder and jumping for the bridge. He grabbed the edge of the stone and slid down until he held on with just his hands. The Dunmer threw his sword up onto the bridge and heaved himself up. After getting to his feet on the bridge and recovering his sword, he looked down at Krayven. The Imperial was staring after him in disbelief, a mask of confusion and anger covering his face. Arken sheathed his sword, then pulled one of the Welkynd Stones out of the sack and held it so Krayven could see, obviously taking a moment to gloat.

Krayven shouted, "Curse you, Dunmer!"

Arken stuck the stone back in the bag, "Yeah, heard that one, too. So long." Arken wasted no more time in this place and ran as fast as he could back to the stone entrance, Krayven's screams of anger and hatred echoing after him. He finally came around to the entrance. Krayven had left it open when he entered the ruins. Arken stepped out and pushed the stone door back into place. It wouldn't stop Krayven, but it would slow him down. He had to get out of that room Arken had left him in the long way, anyway, and that would give Arken plenty of time to be gone before he got out. Arken took off like a shot for where he'd left Ebony, praying that Krayven hadn't slaughtered the horse just for fun. He was relieved to find Ebony grazing on a nearby berry bush as though nothing had happened. Arken grabbed his bow and quiver, swearing upon all the planes of Oblivion to carry it with him at all times from now on, and mounted his horse to put some distance between him and these ruins as quickly as possible. He rode at full gallop for about three minutes before slowing down to a more leisurely pace. Arken smiled and took a deep breath, an action he immediately regretted. His chest was racked with pain and his lungs burned. Every bone in his body ached and his joints protested being used. That combined with the general tingling sensation that covered his skin made for a _really_ unpleasant moment. Now that he had a moment to spare, Arken finally noticed the effects of being struck by lightning. Arken had been hit by lightning spells before and he knew it was nothing a good warm meal and a few hours sleep wouldn't cure, but it hurt like the dickens in the interim. He figured to ride on for a few more hours before stopping to rest and recover.

He looked down at the sack hanging from the saddle and smiled. Fynix and Jauffre would be very happy to see these little things. Arken looked in the direction of White Gold Tower. They had the first piece of the puzzle, and that meant they had the first step to getting Martin Septim back.


	3. Chapter III

3

Fynix was sweeping up some ashes in the Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple. He and several Blades had spent the last several hours cleaning up the burn marks on the floor left by the portal to Mankar Camaron's Paradise that Martin had opened. They could have cleaned it up before, but everyone left it there as a reminder of Martin's knowledge and prowess with magic. However, Fynix would need the marble circle clean for an area to work in. He took one hand from the broom and brushed at his robes, and immediately started coughing up the dust and ash he knocked from the cloth. He waved his hand through the air to clear it and continued sweeping.

Baurus was scrubbing a carbon stain on the floor nearby, "So you're sure Arken can pull this off. I mean, he's not exactly well-versed in the arcane, you know."

Fynix swept the pile of ash into a bag, "If there's anything you learn about Arken when you're around him, it's that he's resourceful. Back on Vardenfell, he was one of the most connected men on the island. If you needed something, he could get it, just don't ask where it came from. No doubt, since he's come back to Cyrodill, he's worked up a network that he can use to acquire just about anything imaginable."

Baurus stood up and stretched his back, "I know he's resourceful. The Oblivion Crisis proved that. I'm just worried that he'll be running in and out of here with Welkynd Stones, having you check them to see if they're good enough. That could take time that we don't have."

Fynix just looked at Baurus, "His resources aren't limited to materials. He can get information that will lead him in the right direction." Fynix cinched the sack full of ash and picked it up, "Besides, there's enough library materials and expertise right here that he wouldn't have to look far. He's not allergic to reading, you know."

As Fynix moved the sack over to the others they'd accumulated, the main doors flew open and Arken strode in confidently.

Fynix dropped the sack he was carrying, "Did you get it?"

Arken held out the bag of stones, "I'd bet my ancestor guardian that this is what you're looking for."

Fynix carefully accepted the bag and gingerly removed one of the stones. He looked it over with a sense of awe.

"Arken, this is perfect." His face brightened when he looked into the sack, "And you got some extras. Excellent." He returned the stone to the sack and cinched it up. He carefully set them on a table and resumed moving bags of ash.

"I assume you didn't have much trouble getting these?"

Arken grimaced, "Well, yes and no. It wasn't hard to find where they were, but I'll just say that I'm not going alone next time."

That comment brought Fynix's head up, "You had trouble?"

Arken nodded, "Incarnate. Krayven was there."

Fynix went silent and had a sober look on his face. Baurus looked between the two Dunmer in confusion.

"I don't get it. Who's 'Krayven'?"

Arken started gearing down and placing his things on a nearby table, "Only the most ruthless man to walk the earth of Tamriel. He's a scoundrel. He has his own plans for everything and all of it involves acquiring the greatest amounts of power through the most diabolical of means."

Fynix sat down on a bench after brushing off his robes, "He's a paradoxical man. He's highly disciplined in his skills, yet completely unrestrained in his behavior. Depending on what mood he's in, a simple greeting can produce any result from returning the greeting to setting you ablaze where you stand."

Baurus rinsed off his cloth in a pale of water, "Sounds like a real winner. How'd you two ever happen upon the likes of him?"

Arken pulled off his right gauntlet, "He's former Morag Tong, except he liked the job of paid assassin a little too much. He started getting sadistic with his executions, to the point where the guild master threw him out."

Baurus stopped scrubbing, "How do you know all this?"

Arken pulled off his left gauntlet and exposed the Morag Tong tattoo on the inside of his left forearm.

"I was the guy who ratted him out. Fynix is just guilty by association."

"As I have been on _many_ occasions, thank you very much, Arken."

Arken looked over at the mage, "No comments from the scrib squad. Anyway, he disappeared after that. Unfortunately, he turns up from time to time to execute some twisted scheme of his or disembowel some poor sod he doesn't like. Krayven's like a bad drake. No matter how high you toss him, he always turns up."

Fynix scoffed, "So are you, for that matter."

Arken set his greaves on the table, "Keep talking, Nix. You're going to look real funny with your hood in your mouth."

Baurus chuckled at their banter, "So, whatever you need to go get next, you're bringing someone with you, then."

Arken nodded, "I'm not going anywhere just yet. First, I need a nice hot bowl of cooked crab meat and veggies, then a few hours of sleep. Krayven worked me over pretty solidly." Arken took off his cuirass, revealing a shallow burn on his left pectoral that strayed down onto his abs.

Fynix stood up from leaning on the table and walked over to Arken, "Hold on. Let me see that."

"It's a flesh wound, Fynix. I'll be fine."

Fynix started probing he burnt flesh, causing Arken to grunt, "How many times do I have to tell you to wear a shirt under your chest plate. You already wear trousers under your under your greaves, so how much more effort is it to put some bloody cloth under your…"

"Fynix!" Arken raised his voice to get his attention, "I'm fine. I just need some rest."

"What would Merrenda say if she saw you like this?" Fynix held his hand over the burn. A blue-white light pulsed out from his palm and extended to Arken's chest. When the light faded, the burn was reduced to just a few spots of upbraided skin.

"That's better. Remain still for a few minutes so the magic can do its work. After that, you should be good as gold." Fynix walked over to a table where a dusty, old book was laying, "The Xarxes has been little help, but I found some new information in an old tome I got at Wolverine Hall near Sadrith Mora. It's essentially the layout of a small Tamrieli Sigil Tower. It was used for opening the portals that the mage's guilds used for teleportation around Morrowind, that is before they refined the art to what it is today. It appears that we can use this assembly to move between planes, as well. It needs an anchor, which we obviously have now, and several other necessary parts. I'll need you to gather the building materials so I can construct it. I wrote them down so you won't have to remember them."

Arken took the piece of parchment from Fynix and looked it over. There were some pretty rare materials on the list. Particular kinds of metal, wood, and stone, along with a few other select items, most of which would be hard to come by.

"I can get you some raw ebony. I've got some leftover at my house. As for the raw glass, I don't know how much I can help you there, and I'm not willing to give up my armor. And the rest of it will take some hunting to find. I might have to get creative on this one."

Fynix sat down and began paging through the tome, "Whatever it takes." He paused and looked up, "Just as long as it's not _too_ illegal. Once you've gathered the materials, I can shape them and assemble the apparatus. From there, it should only be finding a few more ingredients for the ritual to activate it. After that, I'll merely need to fine tune it to go to Aetherius."

Arken folded up the parchment and put it in his pocket, "Sounds good. I'll be back on my way tomorrow. Baurus, if you don't mind, I'd like you to come with me. I want another sword watching my back this time."

Baurus nodded, "I'd be happy to help. Just tell me when you want to leave so I can be ready by then."

Arken waved him away, "That can wait for now." He smiled and clapped his hands together, "Now, bring on the crab meat."

------------

Krayven flung open the old wooden door in the cavern hall, ripping it from its hinges. He continued down the rough corridor at an angrily determined pace. Everyone else in the hall who saw him coming moved to give him a wide berth. Those who didn't see him were simply pushed out of the way. Krayven was furious. Not only had he not gotten the Welkynd Stones from Arken, but Arken's escape had humiliated him to no end. That Dunmer would pay for this embarrassment.

Krayven came to the door he sought only to find it open but guarded. The red-robed guard stood alert before him. Krayven walked half way past him before he extended his arm to block him.

"I'm sorry, Master Krayven. The lord is not to be disturbed."

Krayven's green eyes gleamed with anger as he looked at the guard. Cobra quick, he snapped out a frost-enhanced heel-palm that landed squarely on the guard's sternum. Krayven pinned him back against the rock wall as the skin of the guard's face shrank and turned blue and his eyes crystallized.

"Have you any concept of how difficult it is to replace acolytes, Master Krayven?" The low, throaty voice came from beyond the threshold.

Krayven let the man's shriveled frozen body hit the floor, "Keep them out of my way and you won't have to replace them."

The red-robed man beyond the door bade him come in, "Our numbers are few enough as we stand, in light of the Master's death and Lord Dagon's defeat. I may have to withhold payment if you continue to kill my servants."

Krayven sat down heavily and grabbed a nearby mug of mead, "Then withhold it. I can get money elsewhere." He took a long slug of the drink, "All I know is that you need me. I'm the only one who can pull off this little scheme of yours, and you know it."

The hooded man walked over to a table, keeping most of his back to Krayven, "And yet you return without the Welkynd Stone you went to retrieve. I begin to wonder how able you are to accomplish this task."

Krayven slammed the mug down and poured some more, "There were complications. Problems that couldn't be solved with simple intimidation or murder. The Blades are after the same thing."

The hooded man nodded, "They seek to bring back the Septim that was lost at the Temple of the One. This is nothing that the spy has not discovered."

Krayven slammed down the empty mug again and wiped his mouth, "So now that they have plans set into motion, what's your next move? I'll expect nothing less than _full_ payment for it."

The man picked up a large pouch, "You have served us well," He threw the pouch of coins to Krayven, "but your services will not be required for the next step. Wait within the caverns, if you do not mind, for I will have need of you again."

Krayven looked through the pouch, growled at what he saw, and affixed it to his belt, "So what're you going to do."

The hooded man sat down at the table and began to write on a parchment, "This 'Arken' is a hindrance that must be removed. It is time that the spy fulfill the role of assassin."

------------

Arken slept on his wolf-skin bedroll he had laid out in the library. It was the only place besides the armory he could get some privacy. He lay on his side, soundly sleeping, lost in a peaceful dreamland.

Arken's eyes snapped open. There was a creak from a floor board near the door. It was a long quiet creak, so whoever made it was trying to remain silent. Arken half-closed his eyes, gripped his dagger under his pillow, and listened to the silence. Nothing. Another creak, closer to him this time. Whoever was in here was not after the books. He was the target. He continued to listen. Arken had laid his bedroll out next to a creaky floor board for this very situation. Another creak, right next to his bedroll. He tightened his grip on the dagger. The creak was long and drawn out, sounding almost strained. They were kneeling down next to him. Arken's eyes opened fully when he heard the sound of metal scraping against leather. A blade!

Arken blurred into action, rolling over suddenly with his arm out to catch his attacker by surprise. He hit someone, but couldn't pin them to the floor. Arken rolled to his feet with his dagger at the ready and looked around. Nothing. The room was empty. Arken narrowed his eyes. They couldn't have left the room that quickly. Arken heard a floor board creak behind him and sidestepped to avoid the slash that followed. He whirled around to face his attacker only to be looking at more empty room. Arken frowned. This wasn't good. He was wearing nothing but a pair of felt pants and armed with nothing but his dagger, leaving him unarmored and barely armed with no sign of his attacker.

A hint of motion caught Arken's peripheral vision and he froze, only darting his eyes over to see. There was a very faint blur moving in the room, a shadow upon shadows. That must have been his attacker.

_Chameleon shadow form_. He thought to himself. The shadow moved around to try to get behind Arken when he went on the attack. He rolled his dagger around backhand and swung in the direction of the shadow. The blur moved quickly, but Arken kept track of it. Two more subsequent swings followed before the shadow attacked again. It looked like it was coming with weapon held low to try to gut Arken. He rolled aside, getting some of the business end of the blade across his arm, and stepped around his invisible opponent. He wrapped an arm around his neck and attempted to put the dagger to his back when he got an elbow in the ribs. Arken recoiled from the shot, dropping his blade and releasing his attacker. The shadow turned around and attacked again. Arken grabbed the hand holding the dagger and held it away from him. His attacker was fairly strong, making this a difficult task. He moved the arm to his side to avoid the blade when he felt a leg wrap around his. The shadow swept Arken's legs out from under him, but Arken wasn't going down alone. He kept a tight grip on his opponent and grabbed a shoulder, yanking him down, too. The attacker straddled Arken and brought the dagger down hard. He grabbed the blade-wielding wrist with both hand and pushed, keeping the tip mere inches from his bare chest. Arken the kicked his right leg straight up, flexing far enough to hit his invisible opponent in the back of the head. He then hooked the floor with his heels and pulled himself down between the shadows legs, pulling the arm with him. Arken came up in a crouch and flipped the shadow onto its back. He rolled around, wrenched the dagger from the shadow's hand, rolled it through his fingers to wield it backhand, and staked it straight down into his attacker's chest. The chameleon form stiffened, then went limp.

Arken stayed on his knees to catch his breath. The door flew open and Jauffre, Baurus, Fynix, and several other Blades barged in with weapons drawn. Jauffre quickly assessed the situation, then lowered his weapon and nodded to the other Blades. They filed out of the room, leaving, Jauffre, Baurus, Fynix, and Arken.

Fynix knelt down next to the nearly invisible body, "Looks like you had a visitor. Another one of your fan following, I assume?"

Arken shook his head, "Decidedly not. He was going to try to walk out of here with my head on a platter."

Jauffre set his dai-katana on the table, "He came here to kill you. How did he even get past the gates and the watch?"

Fynix was probing the body, "He's invisible, Jauffre. That's a good start." He felt around the shadow's neck, "Here's something. Feels like an amulet." He pulled the amulet off the body and the chameleon faded. The assassin was human, a Breton, dressed head to toe in leather.

Fynix pocketed the amulet and looked to Arken, "So what do you think? Dark Brotherhood?"

Arken shook his head, "I doubt it. This is generic leather, not the specialized stuff they use." Arken looked the Breton over some more, "No black rings, jewelry, anything to indicate affiliation with the Dark Brotherhood. I think we can rule them out."

Baurus secured his sword under his belt, its scabbard down in the barracks, "Then who else would want you dead?"

Arken shook his head, "I don't know, but I will venture this: whoever it is, it's probably the same guys Krayven is working for."

Fynix was looking over the amulet, "All the more reason we need to get our plan into motion."

"I agree." Arken took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out, "Baurus, get your gear ready to go. We leave at dawn."


	4. Chapter IV

4

Jauffre walked into the library to find Fynix in a familiar position, his nose buried in a book. He studied the volume intently, glancing up every one in a while to write something down, then went back to reading. Arken and Baurus had left earlier that morning to search for the building materials that Fynix needed, and probably wouldn't be back for some time. In the mean time, Fynix needed more information on this Portal Tower, as he called it.

Jauffre didn't want information on the portal as much as he wanted information on Arken. Arken had once again left him flatfooted and guessing about the enigmatic Dunmer. He just couldn't seem to get a grasp on how he thought. He finally had a moment's peace and Fynix as overdue for a break, so Jauffre thought he could kill two birds with the same arrow.

Jauffre walked over to Fynix's table and sat down, "Well, Fynix, I've just about given up trying to understand your friend Arken." Fynix appeared to be ignoring him, but Jauffre knew he had his attention.

He continued, "He always pulls something out of his sleeve you think couldn't possibly be there. And giving him orders is akin to giving a minotaur etiquette lessons."

Fynix kept his nose in the book, "If you knew him, you'd understand."

Jauffre scoffed, "I _do_ know him, and he _still_ throws me wild cards all the time."

His last comment brought Fynix's head out of the book. He just stared at Jauffre for what felt like a long moment.

"Really? You _think_ you know him. But do you _really know_ him, Jauffre?" Fynix closed the book and pushed it forward on the table, making room to rest his arms.

"To truly know Arken, you must understand the things he has been through in his life. He was born here in Cyrodill to a pair of middle class Dunmer. His father was a merchant by trade, and his mother was a seamstress by hobby. One day when Arken was still very young, only seven years old, barely out of the womb by Dunmer standards, he and his parents were traveling to Bravil on business when they were attacked by wolves. Arken doesn't know why, but he was the only one who survived the attack. He gathered what few things he could carry off his parents' bodies and continued on. He made Bravil his new home. Since he was too young to have a trade and there were no jobs around that he could do, Arken as forced to survive by stealing food from street vendors, shops, and even people's houses on occasion. Obviously, this made him a target for the local guards. At first, it was hardly a slap on the wrist, but as he got older it came to a risk of jail time. As Arken grew in stature, he grew stronger and smarter. He developed friendships and made enemies during this time. When he finally moved away from that hole he lived in, while he was traveling, he met up with the very same wolf that killed his parents. Fortunately, he was eighteen years old and had learned how to wield a sword quite well by this time. He killed the wolf and skinned it. When he arrived at his new home in Leyawin, he dried the pelt and used it to make a bedroll that he still uses to this day. He lived in Leyawin for quite some time, working as a trader and freelance adventurer, but continuing his thief ways under the surface. He lived quite well in Leyawin for a long time, until he was forty, if I'm not mistaken."

Jauffre furrowed his brow, "He doesn't look a day over his early thirties."

Fynix nodded, "Average Dunmer lifespan is five hundred years. That aside, it all abruptly stopped one day when Arken got cocky and tried to rob Castle Leyawin without inquiring as to the security within. The guards captured him, and found some reason to search his house. They performed their search and found thousands of septims worth of stolen material, so the Legion was called in. They declared him a felon and a menace, and deported him to Morrowind, Vardenfell to be exact. They probably sent him there thinking his own people would know how to handle him, and to get him far away from Cyrodill. Deportation didn't have much sway on Arken. He continued his thief's antics in Morrowind, and amassed a great deal of wealth in so doing, I might add. Shortly after he arrived in Morrowind was when I met him. I was on Mage's Guild business in Balmora when I met him at the Razor Hole armorer shop. He had some business in Sadrith Mora, where I lived, so we decided to travel together. By the time we got there, we had struck up a friendship. I eventually learned of Arken's thief antics, yet something deep inside wouldn't let me simply sell him out to the guards. I could sense that there was a good man deep inside Arken that didn't deserve to rot in a prison. After a good many successful years as a thief and Lawman of House Redoran, Arken decided to settle down from the thief business. He used his considerable wealth to purchase several blacksmith shops and armorers across the island and formed the Coalition of Vardenfell Smiths. It was a very lucrative business that grew with each passing year. During that time, Arken fell in love and married Merrenda Redoran. She was a Dunmer about his age, smart, well-mannered, and the most beautiful thing you've laid your eyes on, I'll tell you."

Jauffre scoffed cynically, "She was a part of the great house. Are you sure he didn't marry her for her position?"

Fynix's face became stern and forbidding, "Her post would not allow a marriage to one of common birth, Jauffre. She _stepped down_ from her place to be with Arken. This was love, not convenience. Arken and Merrenda lived very happily for many years, until Arken was about seventy eight. The Coalition grew to be very prosperous and Arken's wealth grew greatly. Everything would have been perfect and he'd still be in Morrowind, were it not for that one fateful day. One of Arken's contacts apparently ratted him out. Arken was starting his day like he did every morning, Merrenda was in the kitchen cooking the morning meal, when Legion soldiers broke down the front door of their house. They surrounded Arken with swords drawn and told him he was under arrest. Well, Arken thought it thoroughly inappropriate to be threatened in his own home, so he disarmed one of the soldiers and defended himself. He held his own against them with Merrenda looking on in horror when the fight got nasty. Arken ended up killing one of the soldiers in self defense. They all took a step back and drew bows, threatening to kill him if he continued to resist. Arken wasn't about to go down without a fight, and Merrenda knew it. She ran to her husband's aid when one of the soldiers released his arrow. The arrow hit its mark, it got Arken, but it got him _through_ Merrenda. She strayed between the soldiers and Arken, the arrow only injuring him slightly, but piercing her through mortally."

Jauffre's eyes widened, "They killed his wife?"

Fynix nodded grimly, "Entirely by accident, but it was still a careless accident that could have been avoided nonetheless. Arken pulled her away from him in time to have her die in his arms. The guards probably hoped that Merrenda's death would break Arken down and take all the fight out of him. They couldn't have been more wrong, and the subsequent brawl resulted in the death of six more Legion soldiers before someone finally knocked him unconscious. Arken was charged with grand thievery, money laundering, and murder of Imperial soldiers, who by the way he killed only in self defense. He was sentenced to eighty years in prison and was hauled back to Cyrodill, where they threw him in that cell that he simply walked out of with the Emperor over two months ago."

Jauffre nodded somberly, "How did you wind up in that cell with him?"

"Once again, I was guilty by association. They charged me as an accessory to grand thievery and money laundering and sentenced me to thirty years. Fortunately, we were only there for a year before the Oblivion Crisis gave us back our freedom, but during that year, Arken was utterly seething with hatred for the Legion and the Empire. He's cooled down over time, of course. I never give up hope that Arken will one day find love again and stop harboring this deep-seated resentment for the Imperial Legion, but he'd kept very closed to others since that day."

Fynix shifted before continuing, "Arken has had a lot of reasons to give up in his life. He's had a lot of reasons to hate the world and everyone in it. Yet what makes Arken special is that he doesn't. He hasn't given up. He doesn't hate the world. The events of his life would have broken down any lesser man, but Arken chose to become stronger than his circumstances. Through that, he became a fighter and a good man. He would deny that he's a good man, but deep down inside, sooner or later he has to own up to it. The problem that he faces is that nobody can see that good man. When someone looks at Arken, they see a thief with a long criminal record who needs to be locked up for the rest of eternity. What they don't see is the good man inside that has had to make some awful choices just to survive." Fynix leaned forward, "Now I pose to you, Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, can you see that good man? Or do you just see what everyone else sees?" Fynix grabbed his book and opened it to where he left off, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do." He looked back down at the book and remained silent.

Jauffre knew he'd just been politely dismissed from Fynix's presence. He stood up and slowly walked to the door. He glanced back at Fynix, who had not looked up from the book and was once again intently studying. Jauffre passed through the door and slowly walked through the Great Hall, thinking about what he had just learned about one of the Champions of Cyrodill, and asking himself the question Fynix had posed. Did he see Arken as a good man? Could he see Arken as a good man? Or was he just a thief who happened to be a friend of the future emperor? Jauffre shook his head. Only time could tell him the answers to those questions.

------------

Baurus was stirred from a light sleep by the sound of someone's voice. He opened his eyes and slowly grabbed his katana next to his bedroll. He heard the voice again, but is sounded like Arken. Baurus sat up on his bedroll and looked over at the Dunmer sleeping across the campfire from him. He was tossing and turning in his sleep, grunting and muttering something, and was progressively getting more violent. Baurus just watched, keeping his hand on his sword in case something was afoul. Arken was stirring more and more, and muttering what sounded like a name.

"Merrenda!" Arken shouted, snapping upright in on his bedroll and whipping out his dagger, sweat pouring off his neck and shoulders. He sat there with dagger ready for a long moment, breathing heavily, realizing it was just a dream. He sheathed his dagger back under his roll and looked over at Baurus, who he only now realized was watching.

Arken wiped his forehead, "Did I wake you?"

Realizing there was something mysterious going on inside his Dunmer friend's mind, Baurus lied, "No. Not at all. I just couldn't sleep."

Arken pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, "Leave the lying to me, Baurus. You're no good at it. I'm sorry I woke you. This just happens from time to time."

Baurus simply nodded. Seeing the somber look on Arken's face told Baurus that he was thinking about something, something he probably didn't think about often for this very reason. For the time being, so they could both get some sleep for the night, Baurus decided that taking Arken's mind off what he was thinking about was the best course of action.

Baurus crossed his legs on his bedroll, pulled out his whetting stone, and unsheathed his katana, "Since you're awake, I do have some questions. I've been trying to understand your buddy Fynix ever since I met you two. I just don't understand how anybody can keep their head in a book that long without losing any and all traces of sanity."

Arken sat for a moment, thinking of how to word his answer, "Well, he's used to it. He's been studying magic and the arcane since he was young."

Baurus ran the stone down the length of his blade, "This sounds juicy. Lay it on me."

Arken shifted and crossed his legs to get more comfortable, "Well, Fynix was born and raised in Morrowind. That's why he has such a thick Morrowind accent. He lived with his family, mother, father, one younger brother, and a younger sister, in Sadrith Mora on Vardenfell. His father was a powerful and influential mage who had loose associations with House Telvanni. He taught Fynix about magic and spells and the arcane from when he was really young, hoping that his son would take up an interest. Well, it worked and, when he came of age, Fynix went to study magic at the local Mage's Guild hall. He liked his study of the arcane arts, and excelled in all areas, but mostly in the schools of Destruction and Alteration. Unfortunately, as Fynix grew, so did the Telvanni's desire to control the mages of Morrowind. You see, the Telvanni believe that knowledge is power, and that magic stems from knowledge. So if they can control the magic-wielding inhabitants of the land, they will control the land. They continued to levy stricter rules on the mages and wizards of Morrowind and expected all of them to follow it like they were the authority. Neither Fynix nor his father would tolerate the Telvanni's assertion of authority where they had none. They both continually bucked the Telvanni's grasps at control, to the point where they made some very influential enemies. There are several Telvanni towns across Morrowind that Fynix cannot set foot in to this day. He'd be arrested and charged as an outlaw. I met him shortly after I went to Morrowind. He was on business in Balmora, where I did most of my dealings. I had to go to Sadrith Mora for some business, as did he, so we decided to travel together. The Balmora guild guide was absent at the time, so we had to take several silt striders and boats to get there rather than be teleported. By the time we arrived, we had struck up a good friendship and have been friends ever since."

Baurus looked down the length of his sword to see if he got all the nicks, "What's his family like? Wife? Kids?"

Arken chuckled and shook his head, "No. Nix never married. To this day, I don't know why, but he seems happy enough as he is. As far as I can tell, he thinks a woman would be a distraction from his mage studies and disciplines."

Baurus chuckled and ran his stone over a rough spot, "He sounds like a complicated guy."

Arken raised his eyebrows and shook his head again, "No, really he isn't. Fynix is actually very predictable. You could wager your year's salary that he will always do what he feels is the right thing. Fynix's morals center around his friends, but mostly in keeping the less ethical people of this world from getting what they want. That's why he doesn't give money to the poor. He doesn't want to take the risk that he's aiding a freeloader." Arken smiled, "I remember one time in Morrowind, I recruited Nix for a special job. The contact was posing as a beggar on the streets of Ald'Ruhn and the code phrase was him asking for a coin. It took me literally dragging Fynix behind a house and telling him that the beggar was the contact for him to hand over a single drake. Those days on Vardenfell were some of the best."

Baurus sheathed his sword and put away his whetting stone, "So how did you guys wind up here in Cyrodill?"

Arken's smile faded and his gaze became distant, "Something happened…something that neither of us could have seen coming, or could have stopped. When it was over, we were deported here and sentenced to languish in that prison cell. Lucky enough for us, the Emperor's escape route led through the cell, and we were allowed to go free. That was two months ago last week, I think." Arken laid back down on his bedroll, "We'd best get some rest. We set out for Anvil late morning tomorrow."

Baurus laid back down on his bedroll, hoping that there wouldn't be a repeat of what happened earlier. He laid his head back, knowing a little more about one of the Dunmer who had saved Tamriel, and raising more questions about the other. Questions and answers, but what was important was how one matched the two up. That was where true knowledge came from. Baurus rolled onto his side, preparing for another day tomorrow.


	5. Chapter V

5

The main street of Anvil was quiet that night as Arken and Baurus walked through the main gate. The only activity was the guards on patrol up and down the walks. There was light in the upstairs window of Morvayn's Peacemakers. No doubt, his apprentice was up late studying again.

Arken pulled his cloak around his shoulders and kept it closed. The moon was shining brightly that night and he didn't want to attract undue attention with the light glinting off his glass armor. He pulled his hood up to conceal his identity. Arken was well known in Anvil as the man who broke the curse on Benirus Manor, his home. He started down the street to the left towards his home with Baurus following in his wake.

Baurus fell into step next to Arken, "So what's so special about this particular batch of ebony?"

Arken gave him a wry smile, "We know where it is. It's just like any other ebony, but we don't have to go all the way to the Caldera Mines to get it."

Baurus shrugged and remained silent. The two continued down the street until Arken stopped dead in his tracks. He held out a hand to stop Baurus and pointed to the roof of his house.

He spoke in a hushed whisper, "Look. Near the upstairs window. Wait for it." There was nothing for a long moment until Baurus noticed a glint of light reflecting off something.

Baurus narrowed his eyes, "A dagger. Someone's waiting for us."

Arken nodded, "My thoughts exactly."

Baurus looked at the Dunmer, "You sure it's not someone signaling you?"

Arken frowned and looked at Baurus, "Nobody I know would ever be so sloppy as to use a light reflection as a signal. Anybody within two hundred feet could see that." He looked back at the roof, "Wait here. When I say 'now', start looking around like you lost me." Arken waited a long moment until there was another glint of light, "Now."

Baurus started looking around, but really was looking for Arken. He heard him say "now", then he almost literally vanished. He shrugged and started walking across the street, "looking" for his partner.

Arken moved through the darkness, well concealed by his Ring of Shadows. He made his way around the inner perimeter of the wall, behind the lake and past the old barrel, around behind his house. He used the protruding bricks and climbing ivy to get up to the roof, and stepped across the shingles quieter than a cat. He rounded the bend of the roof to find the sloppy assassin. He was just sitting on the roof waiting, working his dagger around in his hand like he was bored. Arken silently snuck up behind him and, in a practiced motion, snaked one arm around his neck with his other hand locked behind his head.

Arken jerked to make sure he had control, "Time for you to tell me some things. Who sent you?" Before he could get the response, Arken heard the metallic scraping of the dagger and saw the assassin getting ready to stab him in the face. Arken twisted his shoulders hard, with the assassin's head firmly set in his lock. He heard a sickening crack and the man went limp. Arken released him ripped his hood off. It was a Redguard this time, but still nothing to indicate who sent him or who he was working for. Arken grunted in frustration as he removed his Ring of Shadows. Whoever these assailants were, they were good at covering their tracks. He kicked the body off the roof and hopped down himself. He landed in a crouch and motioned Baurus to join him.

Baurus walked up shaking his head, "I'm never going to get used to how you disappear like that."

Arken nodded and pointed to the assassin, "Search him. See if you find anything from who he's working for. I'll be right back." Arken vaulted onto his porch and took out his key. He inserted it into the lock and turned. When he heard the tumblers lock, he pushed the key in further and turned again, tripping another set of tumblers. The door opened and Arken stowed his key. All of the doors and windows were secured with a special lock of his own design, and he had the only keys. Arken always found it ironic when a thief designs his own security. He walked through the dinning room and rounded the corner to find the basement door. He pulled out his key again and unlocked the door. He always kept the basement locked because there was no other way in and it's where he kept some of his illegal commodities, not to mention the den.

Arken closed the door behind him and descended the steps into the main chamber. He walked through the room and continued down the stairs and halls until he came to the final chamber. At the back wall of the chamber was what he was looking for. A large symbol graced the wall with four smaller symbols around it. Arken touched the smaller symbols in a specific order and the large symbol started to glow. He heard the mechanisms behind the wall start working and the secret door opened inward. Arken walked into his thief's den. It originally had been a necromancer's hallow belonging to the former owner of the manor, a loon named Lorgren Benirus who disappeared over a century ago and only within the last two months had been eliminated, breaking the curse he'd left on the manor. Arken had taken the time to clean the place up and scrub the necromancer symbols off the walls before taking it as his stash for his more valuable illegal goods. The man who opened the door originally, Velwyn Benirus, had only stumbled upon the combination by accident, and he took off to escape the ghosts in the house before committing it to memory. Only Arken and the previous owner knew the exact combination, and he wasn't talking. Arken went into the back and opened up a large oak chest. Inside were several large and heavy ingots of raw ebony. Though he hadn't refined them, Arken had taken the time to shape them to fit better in the chest. With how much Fynix described that he needed, they would only need two ingots. Arken hefted both ingots onto his shoulder and closed up the chest. He carried them out of the den and closed the door behind him. The seams of the door disappeared by whatever enchantment was on the door as Arken left the basement. He left his house to find Baurus still searching the assassin's body. Baurus looked up and looked at the load Arken carried on his shoulder.

"So that's what we need."

Arken nodded, "Yeah. Can you carry one of these? They're getting heavy." Baurus carefully accepted one of the ingots and heaved it onto his shoulder.

Arken set the one he was carrying down so he could take a breath, "I think we're going to need to rent an extra horse to carry these."

Baurus set his ingot down next to Arken's, "Now how are we going to do that?"

Arken smirked and snickered, "You forget, Baurus. My pockets are deep. Very deep." He took a deep breath, "For the rest of tonight, I think we should stay at the local Fighter's Guild hall. If there's another assassin, the first place he'll look is here at my home. That and we'd be surrounded by professional soldiers, so he'd have to be nuts to go in there."

Baurus raised an eyebrow, "One was brazen enough to sneak into Cloud Ruler, remember, surrounded by the Emperor's best."

Arken bit his lip, "Yeah, good point. We'll sleep in two hour shifts. Dunmer don't need to sleep as often as humans, so I'll take the first watch. Let's go." Both warriors hefted their ebony onto their shoulders and started making for the local guild hall.

------------

"Fynix."

Fynix's head came up with a start. He looked around and saw that he was still in the library. Judging by the bars of sunlight on the floor, several hours had passed. He ran his hand through his loose hair and stretched.

He shook his head to clear his vision, "What is it, Jauffre?"

Jauffre sat down across from him, "You fell asleep again. This is the second time. I know Dunmer can last longer on less sleep, but you're exceeding even your own limits. You need to rest."

Fynix started rifling through books and papers again, trying to pick up where he left off, "No. I can't. There's still so much to do. I need to find how…"

"No, you don't need to find anything." Jauffre stood up and closed the book Fynix was holding, "The only thing you need to find is a bed." He motioned to a mirror across the room, "Look at yourself, Fynix. You're exhausted."

The mage did as he was bidden and rose to look in the mirror. When he saw what he looked like, he could understand Jauffre's concern. His eyes were redder than normal and bloodshot with rings under them, his hair was a mess from the two times he'd used a book as a pillow, and he had over a week's worth of unshaven growth on his face. Fynix winced at seeing what Jauffre was talking about.

He hung his head and nodded, "All right. I'll get some rest." He turned and pointed a finger at the Grandmaster, "But you wake me just as soon as Arken and Baurus get back with the ebony. They've been gone for nearly a week, and will be returning any time now."

Jauffre shook his head, "I'll wake you up when you're properly rested. I won't have my people collapsing from exhaustion on my watch. Now off with you. You know where the barracks are. Go."

Fynix slumped his shoulders as he walked out of the library. He crossed the Great Hall and was about to enter the East Wing when the main doors opened. Arken and Baurus walked into the Great Hall both carrying large lumps of a brownish black metal.

Fynix walked over to them and smiled as best he could, "You got it. Wonderful."

"Yeah. Wasn't as hard as I thought it would be." Arken set the ingot of ebony on a table and did a double take at his friend, "Nix, you're a mess."

Fynix shrugged, "So I've been told. I'm under orders from Jauffre to get some sleep."

Arken nodded, "I'll second that motion. You're going to study yourself into an early grave. You're, what, barely a hundred?"

Fynix nodded, "Eighty two."

Arken motioned toward him, "See? You haven't hit your first century yet and you're trying to kill yourself." He walked up to Fynix and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Get some rest, Nix. We won't get far in this little venture if you can't stay awake when we need you to."

Fynix nodded and put his hand on Arken's adjacent shoulder, "Thanks, Ark." He turned to leave when Arken got his attention again.

"And among the things you do while you're resting, make one of them a bath."

Fynix raised his arm and sniffed, immediately regretting it, "Yes! I will get right on that." Arken smiled and shook his head as Fynix left the Great Hall.

Baurus took off his heavy cuirass and worked his arms around to relieve some stiffness, "So what's our next ingredient?"

Arken pulled out the list Fynix had given him, "Raw glass. Problem is you can only find that stuff in Morrowind. I'm not exactly up for a trip to Vardenfell right now."

Baurus nodded, "Me neither. So how do we get it?"

Arken thought for several minutes before responding, "I think I may know someone who can help us with this. I'll need to pull a few strings and it may take a couple days to get everything in order, but I think we can work with it." Arken removed his own cuirass and cracked his back, "I need a few hours to unfold from that trip first, though. That trail gets longer every time I take it." He stood up and looked around, "There any parchments and quills around here?"

Baurus motioned to the library, "You could probably borrow some from Fynix's pile of stuff." Baurus took the time to rest while Arken spent his time writing a letter to someone who he knew could help them. It wouldn't be easy to get it to him undetected, but this contact could make it worth it. He signed the letter and, down in the bottom right hand corner, scribed a small symbol. Arken marked the letter with the symbol of the Morrowind Thieves' Guild. His contact would know all about it. He sealed the letter and gave it to Cyrus to take down to Bruma so it could be delivered. Things were shaping up in odd ways. Where were these assassins coming from? Who where they working for? Questions made by the discoveries were troubling at best. Not bothering himself with finding their answers for the time being, Arken spread his bedroll out on the library floor and laid down to catch a few hours nap.


	6. Chapter VI

6

Arken walked into the Newlands Lodge in Cheydinhal with Baurus following in his wake. The last week of the search for the building materials had been unusually silent. There had been that assassin at his house in Anvil, but after that though, there were no other incidents. There was no sign of Krayven or any other attempts to deter them from their quest. They had been undisturbed for nearly seven days, and the sudden peace had Arken somewhat nervous.

Arken stepped through the threshold and straightened his shirt. They both left their armor at the local Fighter's Guild hall to keep a low profile and avoid attracting undue attention. Arken rested his hand on his sword hanging from his belt. He never went anywhere without it. A man in his position didn't leave his personal defense to chance. That and the Daedric dagger in his boot had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Baurus walked up beside him and leaned in, "Remind me. Why are we here?"

"This is where my contact said he'd meet us. What better place to conduct a secret meeting than a public place." Arken walked into the room and looked around. There were several people in the room, but he was looking for one in particular.

Baurus spoke over Arken's shoulder, "Who are we looking for?"

Arken continued to scan the room, "He's an older Dunmer. One of my Morrowind contacts. Don't worry, I'll recognize him." Even as he was saying those words, he saw a Dunmer with silver grey hair sitting in front of the hearth. Arken motioned for Baurus to stay where he was and went over to the hearth. He sat down across from him and made eye contact with the Dunmer, who only returned his look.

Arken pointed to the fire, "It's a nice fire. It's too bad it casts so many shadows."

The Dunmer looked at the fire, then at Arken, "Yes. A shame really. One never really can protect what they have from the shadows." He finished his statement with jerking his head toward one of the back rooms. Arken nodded subtly and motioned Baurus to follow him as he stood and followed the Dunmer. All three of them entered the room and the unknown Dunmer closed and locked the door behind them. He walked around behind the table in the room and sat down.

He sat back and folded his hands, "Well, well, look what the nix-hound dragged in. I never thought I would see the likes of Arken Lockbreaker coming to me for help again."

Baurus looked at Arken, "Lockbreaker?"

Arken nodded and smiled nostalgically, "My surname back in Morrowind." He took a deep breath and sighed, "Not a lock around I couldn't break."

"And he still hasn't told anyone the secret to his success at lock picking." The Dunmer sat up and leaned on the table, "Now to business. Your message said this was important."

"Introductions first." Arken motioned to Baurus, "Baurus of the Redguards, meet Valnir Rivelon, master thief and doyen."

Valnir held up a finger, "_Former_ master thief and doyen. I retired from that many years ago. I'm mostly a private individual now. Information broker, supplier of sorts." He motioned to the seats in front of the table, "Please."

Arken took a seat and leaned forward, "I'll get right to the point, Valnir. I need to know if there is any way you can…waylay a shipment of raw glass from Morrowind."

Valnir raised his eyebrows, "Odd item to request. You planning on some new windows?"

"Let's just say that it's an important building project I'm undertaking. Can you do it?"

Valnir nodded, "It's actually part of my…'business', waylaying these sorts of shipments. I can get it for you within a matter of days. How much are you offering?"

Arken took a pouch of gold from his belt and threw it on the table. Valnir opened the pouch and looked inside.

His eyes darted to Arken, then back to the gold, "I think this will be enough."

Arken nodded and sat back, "It'd better be enough. You might as well be asking me to sell my blood. For that price your information had better be accurate."

Valnir sat back and scoffed, "Information is my business, Arken. Any and all information is open and available to anyone who can get to it first. In some cases, all you have to do is get the right person with the right price in the right place at the right time. Once you have the means to get that information, whatever it may be, you can control people's lives if you want to. And not even kin is safe when you have the right information in the right hands, Arken. You, of all people, should know that better than anyone."

Arken's eyes slowly widened, "What did you say?"

Valnir's eyes started darting around the room, "What? You mean about information?"

"No, about that I should know…" Arken trailed off as he made a startling realization. His face changed from a blank look to mask of anger.

"You son of a…" Arken suddenly vaulted over the table and tackled Valnir in his chair. Baurus stood up and half drew his sword as Arken wrestled Valnir into a chokehold. The scuffle stopped with Valnir on his knees and Arken around behind him with his arm firmly around his neck, keeping his head seated in an unbreakable grasp.

Baurus leaned over the table, "Arken, what's going on?"

The Dunmer ignored him. His attention and rage was focused on the man he was strangling.

"You're the fetcher who sold me out!"

Valnir's voice came back strangled, "Arken, you must understand…"

"You ruined my life!"

"Arken!" Baurus calling his name brought him back to something resembling rational.

Arken's voice dropped to a low growl, "Why did you do it? We'd risked our lives together. Why would you sell me out?"

"I couldn't turn down the Legion's price."

Arken tightened his grip, "So _money_ made you betray someone you owed your life to?"

"You would have done the same."

"I would _never_ betray my kinsmen! My wife is dead because of you!"

Valnir gasped for air, "She's alive!"

Arken's eyes widened, "What?"

"Your wife is alive. I can tell you where she is."

Arken's face hardened. He tightened his grip more and twisted slightly, straining the bones in Valnir's neck.

Arken ground out his voice through gritted teeth, "Tell me. Or I'll twist your head around backwards."

Valnir took a gasp of air, "She's in Morrowind. She works as a tavern servant in Vivec. That's all I know, I swear to Mephala."

Arken leaned in close to Valnir's ear, "If I find out you're lying to me, I'll finish what I started here." He pushed Valnir down as he released him. The Dunmer hit the floor and gasped for air. Arken walked around the table and snatched the pouch of gold.

He held it up as if to taunt Valnir, "I'll be expecting that glass soon, but consider your payment forgone. Think of it as a way of atoning."

Valnir stood up slowly, rubbing his neck, "I'll get it…I'll get it."

"Good." Without another word, Arken turned and stormed out of the room. Instead of leaving the inn, Arken went to the counter and purchased a bottle of ale. He sat down at a small table apart from everyone else and poured himself a glass, which he quickly emptied.

Baurus sat down across from him, determined to get some answers, "Arken, what's going on?"

Arken held up his glass, "What's it look like? I'm trying to get drunk." He emptied the glass and looked at the bottle, "The problem is I need about twenty more of these to do that. Curse my Dunmer constitution."

Baurus put his hand on the top of the glass, keeping Arken from taking another drink, "You're hiding something, Arken. There was that dream you had a couple weeks ago, and now this. You said yourself that you're not even a social drinker and, all of a sudden, you're trying to trying to set a record for how fast you can put yourself into a stupor. What is wrong?"

Arken worked his jaw around, looking nowhere in particular. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he pushed the bottle of ale aside.

He took a deep breath before speaking, "When you asked what brought me back to Cyrodill, I told you 'something happened'. That 'something'…that day. I was going about my morning business as usual. My wife was in the kitchen."

Baurus furrowed his brow, "Merrenda?"

Arken nodded, "Yes. Her name was Merrenda. We were both living our lives as normal that morning, thinking nothing could ever happen to break our happiness. When out of nowhere, our front door gets kicked down and Legion soldiers storm in. They drew their weapons and surrounded me, saying I was under arrest. They had no right to threaten me in my own home, so I disarmed one of them and took his sword. They started to attack me and I defended myself. Merrenda was watching, scared out of her mind. I had them held back, until that one fool came at me with that high sidearm slash. You can guess what happened."

Baurus nodded, "You killed him."

"I killed him. The remaining soldiers stepped back and drew their bows, threatening to kill me if I continued to resist. I looked over at my wife and saw that she was scared." Arken began to stammer over his next words, "I shook my head to her. I warned her not to get involved. But I should have known that she would want to keep me safe. I should have known better. She ran up in front of me as…as one of them released his arrow."

Baurus's eyes bugged, "They shot her?"

"They didn't just shoot her." Arken's eyes filled with rage, "They killed her. My wife. That soldier was happy that he got me, but he got me _through_ Merrenda." Arken leaned forward, "I had enough time to pull her away from me to watch her die in my arms, Baurus. I remember her last words like she spoke them yesterday. You know what that can do to a man?" Baurus remained silent as Arken went on. He smiled, "At least I can say that she was avenged, because the first of them to go was that s'wit who shot her." The anger in Arken's eyes faded and he hung his head, holding his forehead in his hands, "But now, it seems that somehow she survived that day. Had I known…Had I only known…"

Baurus reached forward and put a hand on Arken's shoulder, "You couldn't have known. You're not a god. You can't see the future. And if I can guess correctly, you got shipped back to Cyrodill before you could find out that she was still alive."

"You don't get it." Arken shrugged Baurus's hand off and looked at him, "I was…_am_ her husband. It is my duty to protect her from danger like this. How can I look her in the eye and tell her that I did my duty as her husband? How can I, Baurus?" Arken looked around to make sure he hadn't drawn any attention by raising his voice.

Baurus looked solemnly at Arken, "Well, I can't answer that for you, but I can tell you one thing. I think you now have a choice to make. You can continue with us and help get Martin back, or you can go find Merrenda." Baurus paused and looked down for a moment, "I can't vouch for everyone, but whatever you choose, I'll understand and back you on it." He stood up and pushed his chair in, "I think we need to be getting back to Cloud Ruler Temple."

Arken sighed and nodded. He stood up and followed Baurus out of the inn. To Arken, it didn't matter if he had a decision or not. He had already made up his mind and knew what he was going to do. And this time, nothing would stop him.

--

Fynix slammed the hammer down on the ebony ingot for the billionth time that day, trying to shape it into the form he needed. Refining the metal hadn't been much of a problem. Bringing the forge up to the necessary heat to melt the ebony and raise the dross to the surface was a task, but it was completed without complication. Shaping the ebony on the other hand, was far more difficult. Fynix needed the ebony shaped as several strong brackets that would hold much of the tower in place. No other metal would do because ebony had magically conductive properties necessary for this particular craft. The problem was the armory at Cloud Ruler Temple was designed for building and repairing swords and armor, not metal fabrication. There were no molds into which he could pour the ebony shy of blade-shaped molds. So Fynix was forced to let the ebony cool in smaller chunks and shape it the old fashioned way. However, ebony was a metal known for its density and hardness, hence the reason it made such good weapons and armor. Fynix was an accomplished blacksmith from years of shaping and repairing his own ebony armor, but the ebony wouldn't be shaped by mere hammer blows easily.

Fynix put down the hammer and left the armory to take a break. He had found that by listening to Jauffre and taking longer and more restful breaks that he could work for much longer periods at a time. This task, however, was more tiresome than the others. He'd only managed to shaped one of six brackets, and the second one was tiring him out more quickly. He pulled his gloves off and brushed himself off. He was covered head to toe with soot from the forge fires, making his Dark Elf skin several shades darker. He left his mage robes in the barracks and wore an old tattered robe that he used when he knew he was going to be getting dirty. Fynix brushed his hands through his hair and left a cloud of soot in his wake. He was taking a break, but bathing would be futile since he'd be getting all sooty again anyway. He walked out into the crisp afternoon air of the Jerrall Mountains and took a deep breath, a welcome break from the thick, stale air of the armory. It was business as usual at Cloud Ruler Temple. Two Blades were practicing on the sparring pad, Captain Steffan was making his rounds, and several Blades kept an untiring vigil in the watch booths over the gate.

As Fynix was looking around, he noticed a black horse reigned outside the stable. He recognized the saddle blanket as Ebony's, and that meant Arken and Baurus had returned again. Without hesitation, Fynix stepped through the doors into the Great Hall where he found Baurus and Arken gearing down from their journey. He didn't see any bags or boxes with them and wondered if they were successful getting the glass they would need.

Fynix got Arken's attention, "How was your trip?"

Arken turned to look at him, his eyes showing something Fynix was unfamiliar with, "It was good. We don't have the raw glass yet, but I've secured a shipment that will be here within a few days." Arken took a slow breath, "But something else has come up."

Fynix raised an eyebrow, "Something else? What is it?"

Arken jerked his head toward one of the corners of the room. He didn't want this getting out too far. He pulled Fynix aside and addressed him quietly.

Arken took another breath to calm his nerves, "Nix, you're not going to believe this. I discovered something while we were out."

Fynix raised his eyebrows, "What did you find?"

Arken paused for a moment before continuing, "Merrenda's alive."

Fynix's eyes bugged, "What? How do you know? Who's the source?"

"Valnir."

Fynix frowned, "You know you can't trust him."

Arken nodded, "There are a lot of things I can't trust him for, Nix, but information isn't one of them. Besides, given the situation I put him in, Valnir knows that lying to me is far more dangerous than telling the truth."

Fynix shook his head quizzically, "The situation? I don't get it."

Arken's face became coldly serious, "Valnir's the one who sold us out."

Fynix's jaw dropped in disbelief, "You can't be serious. He was one of your…" Fynix looked around and took a step closer, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "He was one of your Thieves' Guild contacts, your shadow partner."

Arken nodded solemnly, "I know, but he said he couldn't turn down the Legion's price. But I don't think we'll need to worry about him anymore. I put the fear of Dagoth in him before we left."

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Fynix broke it, "If Merrenda's alive, then where is she?"

"In Morrowind, living in Vivec apparently."

Fynix nodded his head grimly before posing a question to which he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, "What are you going to do?"

Arken shrugged, "I'm going to do what I have to do. I've got to go find her."

Fynix looked into Arken's eyes, "Ark, I support your decision to find your wife, but I also know that we need you here, as well. There are things that still need to be collected that only someone of your skill and connections can acquire." He put a hand on Arken's shoulder, "Please, don't abandon this quest. I promise you on my mage's honor that as soon as we have Martin back, we'll help you find Merrenda."

Arken shook his head, "Who says I'm abandoning? As soon as I've found Merrenda, I'm coming right back, with her. Besides, there are some magical ingredients that need to be collected that only you know how to look for. Am I right? You find those while I'm gone, and as soon as I get back, I'll pick up where I left off."

Fynix thought for a moment, then nodded, "There are some things that I'm not sure you would know how to find. It sounds like a good enough plan to me."

Arken nodded and put his hand on Fynix's shoulder, "I'll be back in a couple of weeks. Then, we get Martin back."

The two friends used their special handshake to seal the deal. Arken gave Fynix a reassuring nod, then turned and headed for the door. Fynix watched him go and shook his head. Jauffre wouldn't be happy to hear this. No doubt, Arken had already told Baurus how to convey it to him, but it still wouldn't make it any easier to swallow. Fynix chanced a look at Baurus, who was finishing removing his armor with a sullen look on his face, probably preparing for the unenviable task of telling Jauffre. Fynix decided it would be best if he was there to explain, as well. He knew Arken better than anyone else here, and Jauffre would need that insight right now. Fynix resigned himself to a long debate as he followed Baurus out of the Great Hall.

--

Krayven paced the cavern room, fuming and muttering to himself. It had been several weeks since he'd been able to go out and try to deal with Arken and his Blade friends. His problem was that he was being restrained here. His employer didn't want him leaving or making any attacks whatsoever at the Blades. He'd been sent on a few errands to collect some odds and ends for some kind of magical device that his employer was putting together, but "errand boy" wasn't on his contract, and he was getting fed up with it. He turned and punched a rock pillar, cracking the pillar and breaking a bone in his hand. Krayven ground his hand into the stone, feeding off the pain to fuel his anger.

His employer turned around from his table, "Will you please calm down, Master Krayven? Find some useful means of releasing your frustrations that does not involve killing my servants or causing a cave in."

Krayven reset the bone in his hand and cast a healing spell over it, "Keep a beast caged and it's liable to get angry."

The red-robed man sat back in his chair, "And you are this beast?"

Krayven stormed up to him, "I'll be your worst nightmare if you don't start putting my skills to a good use other than 'delivery boy'."

The man shook his head, "My plan no longer requires such…clumsy attempts at acquiring what we need. Before the spy was killed, he managed to get a copy of the research the Blades are doing out to me. If we can collect these materials before they do, we can accomplish our goal and have Tamriel on its knees before spring of next year."

"So I have to stay here and reduce myself to being your errand boy so you can try to win a little race?" Krayven drew a dagger from his belt and hurled it across the room, embedding it up to the guard in a wooden box, "I advise that you reconsider your plan, or I'll reconsider my contract. And I won't tell you again that I know you need me."

The robed man turned around to his desk, "As a matter of fact, I do have something that I require you for at this time. I need you to case this individual for a period of time. He is a student at the Arcane University, adept in the sort of knowledge we will need to make this device work. Case him out, learn his habits and schedule, and report back to me." He reached back and handed Krayven a parchment with the name on it.

The Imperial snatched it away from him, "Great! More information gathering."

The man regarded him around the edge of his hood, "This information is in planning for an abduction. I think you can appreciated that. The only condition I put on this is you can kill no one. I don't want the Legion poking there noses about our plans."

Krayven smiled, eager for an opportunity to get a change of scenery and draw some blood. He rolled up the parchment and walked out of the room. Finally, steps were being taken to progress _his_ plan.

--

"I understand what you're saying, Baurus, but I still disagree. Arken is, for all intents and purposes, abandoning us to find Martin ourselves, and I have no tolerance for deserters."

"You will take that back, Jauffre." Fynix took a step forward, "Whether or not you are the Grandmaster Blade, Arken is my friend, and I will not stand for your assassinating his character when he is not here to defend himself."

Jauffre regarded Fynix with a hard stare before turning and slowly walking across the room. Fynix and Baurus had been in Jauffre's quarters for the last hour discussing Arken's departure to Morrowind. Jauffre was furious about Arken up and leaving in the middle of something so important. Baurus and Fynix had both been successfully defending Arken's decision, yet Jauffre refused to back down.

Jauffre stopped and faced the wall, "There will be time to tend to personal matters once we have retrieved Martin from Aetherius and he has taken his rightful place as Emperor. Until then, we all have duties to attend to," He turned and faced them, "And from where I stand, Arken has shirked his."

Fynix was fuming, and responded through gritted teeth, "If you insult Arken's honor one more time, you will find your way to Aetherius on you own. You have no tolerance for deserters. I have no tolerance for slander."

Baurus stepped between them and looked at them both, "Look, personal insults aren't doing anyone any good. Let's just calm down and approach this rationally."

Fynix took a deep breath to let out some tension before continuing, "Jauffre, you know full well that you cannot rightly command Arken or myself. Neither of us are Blades any more, so you have no right to be angry at Arken for seeing to his personal matters."

Jauffre worked his jaw around for a moment, "And Arken had no right to simply slip away without consulting me. His skills are very needed here, and I need to know if he had to depart for any reason."

Fynix cocked his head forward, "It sounds to me, Jauffre, that you're simply angry that he made his own decision. You are trying to exercise authority in a situation where you have none. If Arken felt that you needed to know before he left, he would have told you himself." Fynix took a step back and leaned against the wall, "And in regards to duties, don't you think that he also has a personal duty to attend to. She is his wife after all. It is his responsibility to see to her safety, something which he has not been able to do for over a year now. Naturally, he will move to take up his duty as he should. He promised he would return as soon as he found her, and Arken is, if anything, a man of his word."

Jauffre was facing the wall again and nodded as he heard Fynix's reasoning. Jauffre himself had never married, taking up his duty as a Blade before personal pursuits. He hung his head as he considered Fynix's words. Fynix and Baurus both left to let Jauffre ponder the arguments. When his door slid shut, Jauffre leaned over on his desk. Once again, Arken had slipped him a fast one. He couldn't pin that Dunmer down for the life of him. What the harsh reality of that statement was that Jauffre realized why he couldn't understand Arken. He realized that he didn't want to understand him. He really did see him only as a thief who happened to be a friend of the future Emperor. Jauffre hung his head and sighed. Could he ever see the good man that Arken was deep inside? Jauffre didn't know the answer to that question, but he did know one thing. He owed Fynix an apology for smearing Arken's name all over the walls. He pulled his door opened and went to find him, thinking hopefully that this would be the first step to seeing Arken as a good man.

--

The ocean wind teased Arken's shoulder-length black hair as he looked out over the sea from the ship's bow. He had purchased his passage to Morrowind on the _Midsummer's Storm_, a large sloop that made frequent voyages between Cyrodill and Morrowind, taking advantage of Vardenfell's higher cost of living for purposes of trade. The crew's reasons for making the voyage to Morrowind didn't concern him, only getting there in a timely manner. The _Midsummer's Storm_ had a good reputation for being fast in the Anvil harbor, and the crew was competent and experienced, which was all Arken needed to know about them. They were a day out from the Mournhold harbor with another day projected on the calendar, and they were making better progress than was projected, more than suitable for Arken.

A gust of wind picked up Arken's cloak and threw several locks of hair across his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the salty ocean air. The last two times he'd made this journey he was locked up in the hold as a Legion prisoner, so experiencing the voyage as a passenger rather than cargo was a new concept to him. Arken kept his eyes closed and thought about his reason for making this journey. Merrenda. Merrenda was alive. His wife was alive and had been on Vardenfell all this time. Arken grimaced when he thought of what she had had to go through without him. He pushed that thought out of his mind. He didn't want to know how she had been living all this time. He only knew that, if Valnir was indeed telling the truth, he would bring her away from this place so they could continue their lives in Cyrodill. He opened his eyes with an even harder resolve in them than before.

One of the crew got his attention from behind him, "Is there anything I can get for you, Master Dralkes?"

Arken continued to look out over the sea as he shook his head, "Thank you. I'm fine."

The crewman nodded and walked away. The only thing he could get for Arken was his wife, and that was a task he trusted to no one but himself. Arken had the skills of someone who wielded a blade and a bow since they were very young. He was athletic and acrobatic, very strong and of a hearty constitution. He was equipped with some of the best weaponry and armor that money could buy. But more than all of that, Arken held the resolve to use it all to accomplish his task. He narrowed his eyes as a tinge of land began to appear on the horizon. Nothing would stop him. A stampede of wild kagouties couldn't keep him from what he had set his mind to. He would bring Merrenda back. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.


	7. Chapter VII

7

The cavern door flew open and Krayven pushed his way through the door. His quarry had been struggling since he'd taken him while he was sleeping, and he was getting irritated at having to muscle him around everywhere. He threw him to the ground in the middle of the room and ripped the sack off his head. He was a mage from the Arcane University. For some reason, Krayven's employer needed him. The red-robed man walked into the room from another door and regarded Krayven and his captive.

He nodded toward the mage on the floor, "Good. I trust no one else knows."

Krayven shrugged, "Does a dead Legion soldier count?"

The man threw his fist down in frustration, "Curse you, Harkonus! I told you to there was to be no body count. Do you realize the repercussions of your actions? The Legion will find the body and start an investigation. They will increase their presence in the Imperial City and surrounding areas, and that could force us to push our timetable out further than is acceptable. I should withhold your payment for this imbecilic act."

Krayven shook his head slowly, "They won't find the body if it's at the bottom of the Rumare."

The man just stood there fuming before turning his attention to the mage on the floor. He walked up to him and knelt down beside him.

His tone changed from harsh and professional to calmer and more soothing, "What is your name?"

The mage looked up and looked between Krayven and the employer, "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The man put a hand on the mage's shoulder, "That's not important right now. I apologize for the uncouth manner in which my messenger brought you here." He looked over at Krayven, "He has a knack for being heavy-handed." Krayven glared back and growled in his throat.

The employer went on, "I have need of your particular skills. You are an expert in the school of Conjuration, yes?" The mage responded with a nod.

"I have a particular project I've been working on. I would like you to see it. Come." He stood and offered his hand to the mage. The mage looked at the man and his hand for a long moment before he reached up and took it. He led the mage back through the caves, with Krayven closely in tow, into a small chamber in which were the makings of some unknown apparatus. There was a Welkynd Stone, some ebony brackets, some green glass fixtures, planks of oak wood, and several other things on the table.

The mage looked at the pile of parts and scratched his head, "What is all this."

The red-robed man gestured to the pile, "This is my project. I have acquired the parts to this mechanism through various means. It has only recently come to my attention that it may be useful. My problem is that I don't know how to assemble it or make it work. I was hoping that a man of your skills would be able to understand what this device can do."

The mage looked at the man, "What makes you think I want to help you?"

The employer held up a pouch of gold, "This makes me think you will help. I can offer you this and much more if you are willing."

The mage looked between the gold and the pile of parts for a moment before looking back at the man, "No. I don't trust you guys. I don't know who you are. You kidnapped me from my room. And I don't know what this device is or what it will do."

The hooded employer lowered the pouch of gold and put his hands behind his back, "Pity. I was hoping you would be smart enough to understand a good deal when you saw one. A shame really." He looked at Krayven and nodded subtly. In a flash, Krayven pulled the mage's arms behind his back and drew a dagger that he held to his throat. The mage looked down at the weapon and swallowed hard.

The employer walked around in front of him and faced him, "Let's try this again. What is your name?"

The mage stuttered over his words, scared that Krayven would suddenly get twitchy, "W…Whilem. Whilem DeAfrauns."

"Now then, Whilem," He took a step closer, "I was wondering if you would be willing to help me assemble and decipher this device." He nodded back to Krayven, "And I suggest you answer quickly. As I said, my messenger has a knack for being heavy-handed."

Krayven pressed the blade further into the mage's neck, putting more pain into the situation.

Finally, Whilem nodded, "I'll…I'll do it. I'll do it."

The hooded man smiled, "Excellent. I knew you would come around. Keep my trust, and you will not regret working for me." He turned to face the table, "My first question is how this apparatus will function."

Whilem shook his head, "I don't know. I'll…I'll have to get it assembled. That'll take time."

The red-robed man turned to face him again, "I hope not too much time for your sake." He moved to step out of the room, but stopped at the threshold and looked back at Krayven, "Watch him. If he tries anything strange, kill him."

Krayven released him and pushed him toward the table full of parts, "He doesn't stop sniveling, I might kill him anyway."

"Restrain yourself, Krayven!" The man took a breath and lowered his voice to normal again, "Do not force me to regret our arrangement." Without another word, he walked out of the room.

Krayven watched as he left and muttered under his breath, "Oh, just you wait. You'll get yours soon enough." He looked at Whilem, who was just standing there, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work." Whilem turned and started working his way through books and parts, periodically looking back at Krayven. Krayven leaned back against the cavern wall and smiled. Patience was the key. He only needed to be patient, and he would have was he was after.

--

Jauffre paced between the guard booths on the wall above the gate at Cloud Ruler Temple, looking out over the view of the Jerrall Mountains and the city of Bruma below. Not much had happened since Arken's departure for Morrowind. Fynix had finally finished his work on the ebony brackets and had begun working on cutting and carving the glass shipment that Baurus picked up just the other day. All of the Blades were anxious. They knew the results of the quest they were undertaking. They all knew full well that if Fynix could get this device built and working, it would only be a matter of time before Martin was returned to Tamriel and to the Septim throne. Jauffre himself had to admit that he was somewhat jittery at the thought.

Captain Steffan's boots clacking together in a salute pulled Jauffre's attention from the view, "Sir. You wanted to see me?"

Jauffre nodded to him and pointed at an area that was fairly distant further down on the mountain. Farther beyond the doomstone there was someone moving amongst the trees and snow. He was dressed in leather armor and wore a bow and quiver on his back, looking like a hunter, but Jauffre knew otherwise. The man had been "hunting" in the same quarter mile area for the last several hours, long after any wildlife had deserted to parts unknown.

The captain narrowed his eyes to look, "A spy?"

Jauffre nodded, "He's been in that general area for the last several hours. There's no way he has any business out there, not for that long. That leaves only one possibility."

Steffan nodded, "A spy." He rested one hand on his katana, "Say the word, sir, and I'll bring you his head."

Jauffre shook his head, "That won't be necessary, captain."

Steffan looked at Jauffre and cocked an eyebrow, "Sir?"

"Last time we had to deal with spies was with the Mythic Dawn. Whoever this one is spying for, I would wager a month of barracks cleaning duty that it's the same as who this Krayven and the assassins are working for. Last time, we dealt with the spies harshly."

The captain nodded, "And we must do so again, Grandmaster."

Jauffre shook his head again, "Last time, we alerted the Mythic Dawn that we were on to them and caused them to accelerate their plans, hence the Oblivion Gate outside of Bruma. We're going to be more cautious with this one." Jauffre paused and took a deep breath, "Tell me, Captain. Are you familiar with the word 'disinformation'?"

Captain Steffan nodded slowly as the pieces were coming together in his mind, "Yes, sir. I believe I see what you're implying."

Jauffre nodded, "We handle this carefully. Feed the spy faulty information that we can use to our advantage. Keep things from him that will help us later on. Now that we know he's there, we can turn the tables on whoever he's working for." Jauffre took one last look at the landscape before turning to Steffan, "The watch is yours, captain. Alert me of anything unusual."

Steffan snapped up straight in a salute, "Yes, sir." Jauffre turned and walked down the wall, around the sparring pad, and into the Great Hall. He closed the doors behind him and turned to find Fynix in the hall dressed in toe-to-shoulder ebony armor with a green and brown hood hanging off the back of the cuirass. He was checking over his armor fittings and making sure his sword was seated well.

Jauffre walked up to him and made no effort to conceal his curiosity, "And just where are your off to, pray tell?"

Fynix replied without looking at him as he cinched his belt, "Part of mine and Arken's agreement. There are some items of a magical nature that I need to get for the portal tower to work. I'm the only one here who knows how to look for them, so that means I need to go get them myself."

Jauffre bit his tongue and held back what he wanted to say, knowing it would be useless, "Be careful. You are the most important part of this venture. If anything happens to you, this whole endeavor is over."

Fynix raised his eyebrows as he fastened some straps on his cuirass, "Thank you, Jauffre. I appreciate your concern, and will have you know that I can take care of myself." He looked at Jauffre and snapped his fingers. There was a spark from his fingers and a flame appeared in his open palm. He held it there for a moment before closing his hand and extinguishing it.

Fynix smiled, "Arken's not the only one who knows a few tricks."

Jauffre nodded curtly, "That's still no reason to be careless. Perhaps you should bring one of the Blades with you so he can watch your back."

Fynix shook his head, "I won't be gone long enough to worry about it." He cinched the last strap and put a hand on Jauffre's shoulder, "Relax, Jauffre. I'll be back inside of a week. If I'm gone longer than that, then you can start worrying."

Jauffre nodded, resigning himself to losing the debate. As Fynix pulled his hood over his head and grabbed his staff before walking out the door, Jauffre started to wander around Cloud Ruler Temple, going no where in particular. First Arken leaves. A miniscule part of Jauffre's mind still wondered whether or not Arken would come back. Now Fynix was going out on his own material collection errands, possibly endangering himself. To top it all off, there was the spy to deal with.

Jauffre shook his head, "I'm getting too old for this." He headed toward the West Wing and to his quarters to get some much needed rest.

--

Arken was in the crew billets, packing his things into his pack. A hand touched his shoulder and Arken looked over with a start, his hand instinctively flashing to the grip of his sword. It was the captain, an Imperial man with a thick beard.

"Sorry to startle you, sir. We've moored in. You requested passage to Morrowind, and we've arrived."

Arken nodded slowly and picked up a pouch of gold. He handed it to the man and he looked inside.

The captain looked back at Arken and frowned, "This is only a quarter. You said you'd pay the other _half_ when we arrived."

Arken nodded, "My business here will only be a few days. I'll pay the rest, and more, if I can have your word that you'll be here when I return. I'll buy passage for a return trip to Cyrodill then." Arken stood and cinched his bag.

The captain pocketed the gold, "You had best be a man of your word, Master Dralkes."

In a lightning-fast flash, Arken whipped his sword from his belt and put the tip to the man's throat. The captain's eyes bugged at staring down the length of the ebony blade.

Arken's tone remained even as he spoke, "If you insult my honor like that again, this ship will be in the market for a new captain. Understand me?"

The captain nodded slowly, too scared to make any sudden movements.

Arken frowned and returned his sword to its scabbard, "Forgive me. I'm a little jumpy right now. But yes, I am a man of my word. You'll get the rest when I return, plus payment for a return trip. Are we agreed?"

The captain took a deep breath to calm his nerves, "Yes, agreed. We'll be here for a few days anyway while we cycle our wares. Just come back here and we'll haggle out the price."

"Perfect." Arken nodded to the man and threw his pack up on his shoulder. He walked around him and ascended the ladder to the deck. Arken emerged from the deck to be looking on an old familiar sight. The ports of Ebonheart were among the busiest in all of Morrowind. The obsidian dragon statue in the center of the square could be seen clearly from the docks. Arken stepped off the _Storm_ onto the stonework dock and took a deep breath. He remembered the salty breezes of Ebonheart very well from the days he spent working here. Arken looked north and made out the Temple grounds of Vivec in the distance. That was his destination. Vivec was the largest city of Vardenfell, one of the largest in the Empire, bigger than the Imperial City itself. Arken shifted his load on his back and started walking. He left the docks and passed the statue in the square and turned right, heading along the northerly path toward Vivec. If his memory served him, Arken remembered that the Hlaalu canton had a bridge that connected with the path on the western peninsula. Arken could go to the local Fighter's Guild hall in the Foreign Quarter and stay there while he searched for Merrenda. Arken passed under the arched gate and started down the dirt path toward where he would find his wife.


	8. Chapter VIII

8

Arken rounded a corner and stopped to lean against the wall. He hung his head and took a deep breath. It had been two days since he'd arrived in Morrowind, and he'd been eagerly searching every tavern he could find in Vivec. Several more shops and places had sprung up in the year he'd been gone, making his search just that much more difficult. He'd searched each tavern he'd found and questioned the owners, workers, and regular patrons, but none of them could help. A few of the locals identified Merrenda's name as the Redoran princess who left the house to marry, but no one could tell him where she was. Arken raised one hand to his forehead, rubbing the throbbing muscles. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. The only thing worse than losing Merrenda the first time would be not finding her when he felt so close. Arken opened his eyes with a fire in them. If he didn't find Merrenda, Valnir would pay dearly for lying to him.

"Can I help you, citizen?" The voice came from behind him. Arken stood up straight and turned to find a city Ordinator, adorned in his fine gold armor, his red Dunmer eyes visible through a masked helmet that resembled an emotionless face.

"Do you need something?" The Ordinator continued.

Arken shook his head, "No, I'm merely catching my breath."

The Ordinator leaned in closer, "Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Arken's face hardened, "I doubt it. I don't live here."

The Ordinator took a step back and raised his chin, "Very well. Carry on."

As the Ordinator left, Arken turned around to put some distance between him and the guard and find the next tavern in this canton. The Foreign quarter was basically the part of Vivec that all of the unwanted denizens went. The shops were poorly stocked and owned by outlanders, the Morrowind name for anyone born on foreign soil. The living conditions were less than desirable in this quarter, and even the sewers were populated by more than just rats. The taverns here were dives that no self-respecting drunk would be caught dead in, much less the better citizens.

Arken opened the door to the tavern to walk into a mess of noise, stench, and rowdy patrons. They were running good business today, with patrons at almost every table. Arken sat down at one of the few empty tables and started scanning the room. If Merrenda wasn't here, he would order a light drink and call it a day. He looked across the room, but just couldn't focus. He'd been awake for two days straight, simply because he couldn't sleep knowing Merrenda was within reach. Arken hung his head and closed his eyes, rubbing his throbbing temples with his fingers.

"Hey, wench! Another round of beer over here." Arken heard another patron call for his drinks.

"I'll be right with you, sir."

Arken's eyes popped open. He recognized that voice. He looked up and around for the tavern girl who it belonged to. Could it be? Yes, there she was. Merrenda, alive and in the flesh. She carried a tray of tankards over to a rowdy looking table. She looked just as beautiful as the day Arken met her, despite the ratty clothing she wore and the sadness her eyes portrayed. The look on her face said she really did not want to be here. Arken stood up and walked over to her, more than happy to make her wish come true. She set her tray down on the bar and waited as more cups and tankards were loaded on.

Arken walked up to her and gently grabbed her arm, "Merrenda."

Her head came up at a voice she recognized saying her name. She turned to look and her eyes slowly widened.

"Arken?"

He nodded and smiled, "Yes. It's me."

Merrenda's face brightened like the midday sun, "Oh, Arken!" She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Arken hugged her close and stroked her long black hair. For the first time in a long time, a tear fell from Arken's eye as he held the woman he loved. Merrenda pulled back just enough to look up and kiss her husband on the lips. Arken held her tight, the kiss being an unspoken "I missed you" passing between them.

They pulled apart and Merrenda looked up at Arken, "Oh, Arken, it's been so long. I missed you so much. What happened to you? Where did those soldiers take you?"

Arken leaned his head down to rest their foreheads together, "That doesn't matter now. I'm here, and I'm getting you out of here." Arken looked around the room, "Where do you live? I'll get your things so we can go."

Merrenda shrugged and looked down at herself, "Well, what you see is what I have. I'm pretty much penniless."

Arken hugged her close again, "Well, I'll just have to fix that, won't I. Let's go." The couple started walking out and almost made it to the door before a heavy set Nord stepped in front of them.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Arken stepped in front of Merrenda, "We're trying to leave, now step…"

"I wasn't talking to you, meat." He pointed behind Arken, "I was talking to her. She hasn't gotten me and my boys' mead yet."

"She's with me, and we're both leaving. Now step aside."

The Nord crossed his arms, "She ain't going nowhere. She gets me and the boys our drinks everyday."

Arken stepped up into the man's face, in spite of the fact that he was shorter, "She is leaving with me. I already warned you once. Step aside."

The Nord raised his eyebrows, "Oh, you're 'warning' me? You think I'm afraid of you? The wench stays here, shrimp. Now bugger off."

Arken gently pushed Merrenda back and crossed his arms, "You don't want what I can give, frosty."

He scoffed, "I know, because you don't look like you can…" He never finished his sentence. Before the Nord knew what hit him, Arken smashed him in the side of the head with his elbow. As he reeled from the blow, Arken snapped out a fast jab to the man's stomach, doubling him over. Arken sidestepped him and landed his elbow into the back of the Nord's head, dropping him to the floor and putting him out. Arken stood over the unconscious Nord and looked at the man's table.

He pointed at each man, "You guys want what your friend's got?" All of them shook their heads, sober enough to recognize a fighter when they saw one. Arken looked at Merrenda and motioned for her to join him. She took his hand and the two left the tavern together. On the way out, Merrenda looked at her husband.

"That was a little aggressive for you. Don't you think?"

Arken looked back at her, "It got the point across, didn't it?"

She shrugged and smiled, "Hmm. I suppose it did." She giggled lightly, "So where are we off to?"

"We're going to stop by the Fighter's Guild hall so I can grab by things, then we're heading to Ebonheart. I have a ship waiting there to bring us to Cyrodill."

Merrenda furrowed her brow, "Cyrodill? I thought you said you'd never go back there."

Arken scoffed, "I'd never go back _willingly_. The fetching Legion had other ideas." By the time the two had collected Arken's belongings and left Vivec, night had fallen on the roads and shadows danced across the skies. On the way, Arken and Merrenda caught up on their lives, asking how each other was doing, though there wasn't much time to talk before they arrived at the gates of Ebonheart. They walked under the arch and down the stone road, enjoying each other's company for the first time in over a year.

"And then locked me and Nix up in a cell in the Imperial City Prison. They kept us in there for over a year before the Emperor escaped through our cell. That whole thing led to the Oblivion Crisis."

Merrenda nodded slowly, "So you're the one who saved Tamriel from Dagon?"

Arken nodded in return, "Me and Fynix. We stopped Dagon…" He trailed off and paused for a moment, "but lost what we were fighting for in the process."

"What do you mean?"

Arken snickered and smiled, "I'll tell you later. Right now, I…" Arken stopped in his tracks and held out an arm to stop his wife. He slowly looked around at the Ebonheart square. It was quiet, too quiet for Arken's liking. People had turned in for the night, so the square was understandably vacant, but they would at least have left the street torches lit. The square was dark and silent, and Arken was on alert.

Merrenda looked around, knowing to trust her husband's well-trained senses, "What is it?"

Arken didn't take his eyes off the square, "Something's not right. It's too quiet, too dark." Even as Arken spoke, six figures stepped out from behind the dragon statue, three on either side. Arken frowned and his gut tightened when he saw these men. They wore red robes with hoods, marking them with the Mythic Dawn. They all stood in a line for a moment before they raised their hands into the air. A yellow light flashed and a red mist encompassed each person. When it dissipated, the men were wearing conjured daedric armor and had daedric weapons held ready.

Arken drew his dagger from its sheath and handed it back to Merrenda, "Stay back. I'll handle this." He stepped forward and drew his sword. He took his fighting stance, feet apart with weight balanced, sword held at waist level in one hand, and the other hand free to move. Each Mythic Dawn man took a stance and broke rank, slowly starting to circle Arken. Seeing through that ploy, Arken immediately went on the attack. He charged and swung high at the closest guard to him, striking his mace on the side. He used the recoil from that blow to recover and swing lower, again caught by the mace. Arken figured out the guard's tactic and spun to meet the attacker from behind. He dropped to one knee as the guard closed the distance and swung his sword horizontally, catching the man in the waist beneath his cuirass. Arken slid his sword out as the guard doubled over and fell to the ground, the air around him rippling as his armor disappeared now that its wearer was dead.

Arken spun again, rising to his feet and catching a daedric sword on the guard of his own. He held the blades together as he looked behind him and snapped out a kick to the chest of another guard coming in on the attack. Returning his attention to the guard in front of him, Arken cranked the swords around, slid his blade off while throwing his opponent's off balance, and swung a precisely aimed two-handed tip slash to the man's unarmored throat. The guard spun from the blow and landed face down, his armor disappearing as he fell. Arken turned around with a swing that knocked the next guard off balance, causing him to retreat while he regained his footing. Another guard swung at him, another sword this time, and Arken ducked under it. He came up and punched the man in the neck where he had no armor and stepped around him to wrap one arm around his neck. He swung the man around to use him as a shield from a mace blow before Arken rolled on his back over the guard's shoulders, snapping his neck at same time, and engaged the next Mythic Dawn guard.

Several sword strikes were exchanged between the two combatants, each one quickly blocked by the other. Arken swung high to be blocked by the daedric sword, using the recoil to swing low. He was blocked again, but this time his opponent's weight was forward. Arken rotated around as he slid his blade off the guard's and cracked his elbow into the back of his head. The man fell forward to his knees and tried to get up before Arken stabbed him high between the shoulder blades, just above his armor plate. He twitched as Arken pulled out the blade and his armor vanished as he fell to the ground.

The next guard came on the attack from behind. Arken spun with his sword to bludgeon his mace out of his hand, continued his spin in a round-house kick to the side of his head, and rotated once more with a tip slash to the neck. The man's armor vanished as he dropped to his knees and fell face down on the stone. Arken lowered his sword and frowned when he looked around. Six Mythic Dawn guards attacked but there were only five bodies, meaning one was still out and about.

"Drop your weapon or she dies." Quick as a cobra, Arken sheathed his sword and whipped out his bow, drawing an arrow and pointing it at the source of the voice all in the same motion. Arken tightened his grip on the bow when he saw the last Mythic Dawn guard was holding Merrenda with one arm around her neck and the sharp tips of his mace to her side.

"I said drop it, champion. You're killing her each moment you delay."

Arken remained calm because he knew something the guard didn't, "Let her go. I could kill you were you stand, so don't tempt me."

The guard shifted Merrenda to shield himself better, "I'm the one giving the orders, Dunmer, and I said drop the weapons. I'll count to ten before she dies."

Arken smiled when he saw Merrenda wink, "I could put this arrow in your eye socket without touching one hair on her head. I think I'm the one in the best position here."

The guard scoffed, "I'm willing to bet your aim isn't that good." What the guard didn't know was that Merrenda still had Arken's dagger. She slid it out from beneath her arm into her hand and stabbed him in the thigh where he had no armor. He instantly released her and grabbed the wound, giving Arken his chance. He released the arrow, punching through the eye hole of his mask. His head snapped back as he fell to the ground and his armor vanished in a rippling cloud.

Arken set his bow on his back and smirked, "I'll take that bet." Without a moment's pause, he dashed over to his wife and started checking her over for injuries.

"Are you all right? He didn't get you, did he?"

Merrenda took a moment to catch her breath before speaking, "I'm fine, love. Not a scratch." She then looked to the bodies, "Who were those men?"

Arken started searching the bodies as he spoke, "They call themselves the Mythic Dawn. Their goal is to return Tamriel to the Mythic Age, whatever that is. They were the ones behind Dagon's attack from Oblivion."

Merrenda scratched her head, "So there was a daedric cult behind the Oblivion Crisis?"

Arken pulled his arrow out of the guard's eye and stopped to look at his wife, "You mean you didn't know?"

She shrugged, "I don't think anyone knew. Daedra are all a part of life in Morrowind. Everyone thought it was just the daedra running wild across Vardenfell." She paused for a moment, "But that excuse won't fly to the refugees of Ald'Ruhn."

Arken thought for a moment before extracting his dagger from the guard's leg, "Now it makes sense. I was wondering 'why attack openly here?'. But now I get it. The Mythic Dawn aren't as well known in Morrowind, so an open attack here would draw less attention here than…" Arken paused as he made a startling realization, "Those lousy fetchers."

Merrenda looked quizzical, "What?"

"While I was still in Cyrodill, we had to fend off these mysterious assassins at every turn. Every time we killed one, we searched the body but couldn't find anything to indicate who he was working for. But now it all makes sense. It's been the Mythic Dawn all along." Arken stood and motioned Merrenda to come with him, "Let's go. The boat's this way. We leave for Cyrodill in the morning."


	9. Chapter IX

9

Fynix stood with his back to the wall and carefully peered around the corner. The goblin chieftain was coming down the hall with a war band of goblins in tow. They scanned the corridors carefully, knowing they had seen him come down this way. Fynix pointed two fingers at a loose rock and gripped it in a telekinetic hold. He waited until the chieftain was right near the rock when he pulled it right under where he was stepping. The goblin stepped on the rock and tripped, tumbling several goblins behind him. They all stood up and started to squabble about whose fault it was, giving Fynix a chance to slip further down the corridor. The goblins noticed him and stopped fighting to pursue. Fynix turned in the hall to face them and pointed his staff at them, unleashing its tremendous lightning power. The bolt struck the goblin chieftain squarely in the chest, throwing him backward convulsing. The goblins behind all slammed into the body as it fell and tripped over one another. Fynix smiled and turned to continue running. While the goblins were all picking themselves up off the floor and climbing over each other, Fynix was making good time down the hall. He rounded a corner and bounded down the narrow hallway. He heard the cries and croaks of goblins behind him and turned his head to see them gaining on him again. He reached back and unleashed a powerful frost spell, this time at the floor. The stone floor behind him glazed over with a lair of ice. The goblins reached the ice patch and started slipping as they tried to run over it, again tripping over each other and falling.

Fynix kept running. It wasn't much further. He rounded another corner and ran down a short stretch of hallway before coming to a small circular room with a high ceiling and a chest-height pedestal in the middle. He slid to a stop and looked at what was on the pedestal. It was a statue, a tall and thin piece of stonework of Ayleid craftsmanship. All Fynix needed was the white crystal in the center of the statue, but with goblins in hot pursuit, he didn't have time to carefully remove it. He picked up the statue and set it in a sack that he secured to his back to free up his hands. As he secured the statue to his back, he noticed a small device where the statue was resting that had tripped. His attention turned from the device to the sounds of more goblins coming down the hall behind him. As the first goblins rounded the corner, a pendulum blade in the wall swung and split their heads in half crosswise. Fynix's eyes bugged as he looked down each of the four corridors, seeing blades swinging widthwise in each hallway. He smacked the heel of his palm on his forehead for not recognizing the telltale grooves in the walls. To top it all off, there was a spiked grate in the high ceiling that was rattling, getting ready to fall. Goblins on one side, pendulum blades in every escape route, and now spikes above him.

Fynix shook his head, "Maybe I should've picked another Ayleid ruin." He noticed that there was a circle in the middle of the spike grate, for the pedestal to slide through. It was his only option, so he took it. Fynix climbed onto the pedestal and stood as straight as he could as the grate fell. He felt the edges of the grate brush his arms as it fell around him and hit the floor with a loud clang.

Fynix looked around, "It worked?"

The grate started to rise on the chains that held it and Fynix grabbed one. He cast a feather spell on himself and held on as it pulled him up to the roof. The holes in the ceiling the chains were hanging through were large enough to accommodate a person, and Fynix figured where it led was better than here. He made himself as thin as possible as he rose through the hole. He carefully slipped on his Ring of Nighteye as the passage grew darker. Eventually, after a good twenty feet, he came out of the thin circular passage into the small chamber where the trap's mechanisms were housed. He hopped off the chain and started down the only hallway he could find. He followed the turning hallway for several minutes before it came to a stop at a stone wall with a small blue crystal button on the wall next to it. Pushing the button opened the wall in front of him and exposed a large room that Fynix hadn't seen on the way in. Clearly, he was in another part of the ruins and had to find a way out.

He walked into the center of the room and looked both ways. As he was trying to decide which way to go, he felt the floor beneath him shift. Fynix looked down and his eyes bugged as he saw the telltale holes. The floor quickly dropped out from under him. He turned in midair and grasped the stone ledge behind him. He slid down until he was holding on with just his hands. His feather spell had worn off and ebony armor wasn't exactly light. One of Fynix's hands slipped, leaving him one holding on. Fynix strained as he held on, his fingers slowly sliding off the edge. As he slipped off the rim of the ledge, Fynix pulled his dagger and jammed the blade into the crevice between two large floor stones solidly enough to hold his weight. Fynix looked down and saw the floor coming back up. It picked him up as he dislodged his dagger and brought him up to floor level. He immediately stepped off onto solid ground and dropped down to sit against a pillar and catch his breath. He threw his hood off and pushed the sweat from his forehead back into his hair. Fynix looked at his dagger. The sides had furrows scratched in them and the blade was bent and cracked now. He tossed the useless weapon aside and leaned his head back.

"Jauffre's right. I _am_ getting careless." He stood up and scanned the room more thoroughly this time, looking for all the signs of old but still deadly Ayleid traps. He noticed the hollow section of roof that housed more spikes in the ceiling, undoubtedly with a rising platform beneath them. Besides the two he knew of, the rest of the room seemed to be clear. He took a deep breath and reached around to his back to remove the statue, but stopped when he heard more goblin sounds coming from the hallway to his right.

Fynix's shoulders sunk, "Oh, don't I get a break?" He started running down the hall on the opposite side of the room and followed the winding passage. As he ran, the sounds of goblins were progressively and quickly getting closer. He came to another large room, one that he recognized, and turned around to face the goblin threat. As the first ranks came into view, Fynix summoned his most powerful fire spell. He reached his hand toward the goblins and unleashed a fireball the size of his chest. The ball struck the first goblin in the line and expanded to consume the next five, leaving their burning corpses in the hallway. Undeterred by the deaths of their brethren, the following ranks trampled the charred remains and stampeded forward. Fynix aimed his staff and fired a lightning bolt that struck three more, dropping them on the floor and causing their corpses to twitch. In spite of his efforts, the goblins were getting closer. Fynix punched the floor beneath him, releasing a wave of frost that froze the feet of several goblins to the floor. He drew his ebony sword and ended their miserable existences. One goblin leaped at him from behind, axe held high to strike. Fynix turned and clobbered the goblin across the chest with the head of his staff, followed up by a quick sword strike. He spun and landed a lightning enhanced swing of his staff across one goblin's forehead. He turned to decapitate one goblin, then twisted back around and let fly a fireball that consumed another.

Fynix slowly battled a fighting retreat back to the reason he made his stand in this particular chamber. He took a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that he was close enough. He stabbed one goblin in the face, then sheathed his sword and dropped his staff as he turned around and extended his hands outward and upward. He fired a bolt of lightning from each hand that cleanly struck the Dark Welkynd Stones on both of the pillars behind him, then snatched up his staff and dove for cover. With the charge he'd just given those stones, no doubt they'd finish off the goblins and still have some left to attack him. The stones alternated firing powerful frost balls at each of the goblins as they attacked, dropping them dead on the floor one after another. Fynix stayed down as he heard the stones firing off and the cries of their goblin victims. Once the last goblin was put down, Fynix chanced a look over the rock he was behind. There were no fewer than twenty to thirty goblin corpses littering the room, all of the closer ones showing blue shriveled flesh covered in frost burns. Fynix ducked under a frost bolt from one of the dark stones, then stood and sprinted for the door of the chamber. He made his way through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms until he finally saw the light of day. Even though he took off his Ring of Nighteye, the sunlight seemed harsh in Fynix's eyes. He pulled up his hood again and made his way to where he'd left his horse, Jerrall. Jerrall was a powerful, snow-white stallion from Anvil. He removed the Ayleid statue from his back and looked it over, making sure it wasn't damaged, and especially making sure the crystal was intact. It was still in good condition, so he secured it to his saddle and mounted. Jerrall turned his head back and nipped at Fynix's boot.

Fynix smiled and leaned down the scratch the horse's neck, "It's all right, boy. I'm fine. Just a little tired. Let's go." He gave Jerrall a gentle kick and started back toward the road. As he rode, Fynix pulled out his list of items and looked it over. He had the crystal, now he needed pure glow dust. The only place he could get that was from either a glow dust deposit or glow stone in an Ayleid ruin. Fynix winced at the thought of going back into another ruin so soon, and decided to head to the nearest town to rest for a little while before undertaking such a dangerous task. He decided to pass up Anvil to head to Kvatch to see how the rebuilding was going. He rode along the path for about an hour before the dirt road to Kvatch came into view. He pulled off the main road and onto the winding way upward. The first good sign he noticed was the refugee camp was gone, meaning they had moved back into the town. He continued up the path until he rounded the last turn. The old barricade was gone and much of the grass had grown back, but Fynix saw something that piqued his curiosity. The scar stones that marked where the Oblivion gates had been were still there. One on one side of the road had several swords staked into the ground around it with guard helmets on each one. The one on the other side had several grave stones with lists of names scrolling down each. He rode through the gates and dismounted inside the walls. He looked around at the progress they had made in the short time they'd been rebuilding. Several shops and houses were rebuilt and the chapel was in the process of getting a new steeple. Fynix stabled Jerrall and started walking through town. Much of the residential area was still in ruins, but also much of it had been cleaned up in preparation for rebuilding. As he walked, he noticed two men struggling to put a small fire out. No matter how many times they doused it with buckets of water, it kept coming back up. Fynix shook his head, recognizing the flame's unusually red color. He walked closer and cast a powerful frost spell on the flame that extinguished it instantly. The two men looked up with a start, likely wondering how he did it.

Fynix motioned to where the fire had been, "It was a daedric flame. You can only put it out with magic."

Both men smiled and one nodded to him, "Thank you, sir." He pulled a small pouch off his belt and tossed it to Fynix, "Here. For your troubles."

Fynix caught the pouch and felt that it was full of coins.

He shook his head, "All I did was put a fire out. I can't accept this."

The man waved his comment away, "Take it. It's the least I can do for one of the Heroes of Kvatch."

Fynix shrugged, "Well, thank you. Can you tell me which way to the inn?"

The other man pointed as he spoke, "Further up that road, toward the castle. You can't miss it. It looks brand new."

Fynix nodded to them, "Again, thank you." He continued up the road until he found the inn, putting out a few more daedric fires along the way. The man was right. The inn did look brand new. Fresh oak wood and pristine bricks and mortar composed the outside. Inside, the tables and chairs were all brand new and all the finishing was fresh.

The inn hostess, a young Breton woman, saw Fynix and motioned to the rest of the room around her, "Welcome to the New Beginnings Lodge. How can I help you?"

Fynix set his pack on a nearby table and leaned his staff against the wall, "I'll just have a glass of water for now. Thank you." He sat down and removed the statue from the bag. He started looking it over, looking for a way to remove the crystal without completely destroying either it or the statue. Unfortunately, the crystal was well seated inside the stone, and the stone itself was solid. He set the statue down on the floor next to him as the hostess walked up with a mug.

She set the mug down on the table, "There you go. It's nice and cold. Is there anything else?"

Fynix took a sip of the water to wet his throat before speaking, "Yes, actually. I was hoping you could answer a few questions."

The woman shrugged, "I'll do my best."

Fynix pointed his thumb out the door, "I noticed there are several items around the gate scar stones outside the walls. I was wondering what they're there for."

"Those are the memorials for the fall of Kvatch. The one on the left side of the road commemorates all the citizens who died in the attack. The one on the right is for all the guards who gave their lives in the defense. Count Matius ordered that the memorials be made so we never forget what happened here."

Fynix nodded as he listened, but the name caught his attention, "Matius? Captain Savlian Matius? Of the Kvatch city watch?"

The hostess nodded, "That's _Count_ Matius now. We all thought it appropriate that he should be the next count. He didn't want to at first, but he's a born leader, and he's very good at it. We thought that it was the best we could give him for taking back the city."

Fynix raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Well, it's good that you're willing to honor a hero."

"We also honor the Heroes of Kvatch. The Dralkes Nylim Courtyard on the castle grounds is almost complete. It's going to look spectacular when it's finished."

Fynix hung his head and rubbed his eyes, "Oh, bother. I have a courtyard named after me."

The Breton woman smiled and nodded, "We give honor to whom it is due here in Kvatch." She motioned to Fynix's mug, "Will this be all for you, or would you like something else?"

Fynix took another sip, "Actually, I would like a small piece of cooked mutton with some leeks and lettuce, if you have that."

She nodded, "We certainly do."

He started to pull out his bag of gold, "I'll pay in advance then. How much?"

The hostess shook her head, "Free of charge."

Fynix looked up at her, "I can pay for it. How much?"

She shook her head again, "One of the Heroes of Kvatch deserves nothing less then complimentary service. I'll have your meal ready for you soon." She turned and headed toward the kitchen.

Fynix dropped his gold pouch into his pack, leaned his elbows on the table, and ran his hands through his hair, "Am I going to pay for anything in this town?" He sighed, resigning himself to the price, or lack thereof, of popularity and went back to studying the statue.


	10. Chapter X

10

Arken descended the ladder below the deck of the _Midsummer's Storm_. There was a storm brewing up above and Arken was in no mood to get wet. With how much he had paid for their passage back to Cyrodill, he'd purchased the captain's loyalties for a long time. He stepped down onto the deck and looked back through the rows of hammocks. He found his wife in the last hammock in the left row, and walked down the row to kneel down next to her. She was asleep, softly dreaming in a world of peace. Arken smiled and gently brushed some locks of hair away from her face. She stirred when he brushed her cheek and blinked her eyes open.

Merrenda looked over at Arken and smiled, "There you are, love."

Arken continued to run his fingers through her hair, "Sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't sleeping deeply anyway." She sat up and stretched briefly before leaning over and kissing her husband. They came apart and she leaned her forehead against his.

Arken looked deep into her crystal garnet eyes, "Now that I've found you, it feels like happiness has returned again." He paused for a moment as he thought, "How did you ever wind up in that dive anyway?"

Merrenda sat up and looked down, almost ashamedly, "Well, after you were taken, Fynix's parents came to the house and found me. The Legion's first stop was arresting Fynix, so they knew you weren't far behind. They got be back on my feet. Since you were gone, I tried to go back to House Redoran, but…"

Arken raised his eyebrows, "But what?"

Merrenda looked like she was fighting back tears, "Father said that I had left the House and married into another family…that I was no longer a part of House Redoran and that he was bound by the old traditions to uphold that ruling."

Arken frowned, "Remind me to pay him a visit next time I'm in Morrowind."

"Arken." She brushed away a tear and looked at him sternly, "Father may be stubborn and sometimes foolish, but he's still my father, and no matter what he's said or done to me, I love him as my father."

Arken put his hand on Merrenda's shoulder and caressed her neck with his fingertips, "It takes a strong woman to say that."

"Anyway, I heard there were some jobs in Vivec, so I went there hoping I could find work. But there wasn't anything. For the first month, I had to sell most of my wardrobe just to buy food until I wound up in that pit in the Foreign Quarter. I thought I'd be stuck there the rest of my life…until you show up out of nowhere and romantically whisk me away like the knight in shining armor I always took you for." She patted a hand on Arken's shiny glass cuirass lying next to the hammock.

Arken just starred at Merrenda for a long moment, enough to make her feel self-conscious, "What is it?"

Arken's mouth quivered slightly, "Seeing you alive, it's just so..." He paused and took a shaky breath, "I thought you were dead. I watched you…held you as you died. How did you survive?"

Merrenda shrugged, "By all rights, I should have died, but Fynix's parents found me first. I don't remember any of it. I must have blacked out after they shot me. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a bed in their house with Mistress Nylim and her servant standing over me. They nursed me back to health. That arrow didn't leave me without a little parting memory, though." She raised her shirt slightly to reveal a small circular scar on the lower left of her belly.

Arken touched the scar with his fingertips and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Merrenda."

She looked at him quizzically, "Sorry for what, beloved?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you when you needed me most. I'm sorry I let this happen to you. I should have fought harder, kept them at bay. I should have protected you." Arken hung his head, "I'm sorry."

Merrenda raised Arken's head to meet her gaze, "There are some things in life that no one can stop, Arken. Some things are just meant to come to pass. No matter how hard you try to stop them, they will happen." She smiled beautifully at him, "You know you don't need to apologize to me."

Arken took her hand and pressed her palm against his cheek, "You don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."

She nodded to him, "Yes, I do." Merrenda scooted over on the hammock to make room and Arken slid up to joined her. They laid there with each other, Arken with his arm around Merrenda and her resting her head on his shoulder.

Merrenda looked up into Arken's eyes, "You remember the day we met?"

Arken snickered and smiled, "How could I forget?" It all came back to him so fast. Arken was standing in the House Redoran hall in Skar wearing his chitin armor, waiting to be admitted into the chamber. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and the domo stepped out.

"The lord will see you, Master Dralkes." Arken nodded to him as he stepped through the door into a large and lavishly decorated stateroom. Standing further back into the room was an older Dunmer man, well into his third century, adorned in the long and extravagant robes of a nobleman.

He noticed Arken as he walked in and motioned him further into the room, "Ah, Master Dralkes. Please, come in, come in."

Arken did as he was bidden and stood before the lord, regarding him with a shallow bow, "Lord Redoran."

The lord set a scroll he was reading down on a desk and turned his attention to Arken, "I assume by your presence that the task is complete."

Arken nodded, "Yes, ma'serra. I've convinced the merchants you specified to sign on with the new trade commission. Also the Hlaalu official you mentioned has been…'deprived' of those finance records you wanted." Arken handed the Dunmer a small scroll with a Hlaalu seal stamped on it.

Lord Redoran accepted the scroll, "Excellent. You have proven yourself once again, Master Dralkes." He turned toward his desk and started sifting through some parchments, "You have done well for yourself in the short time you have been with the House, Master Dralkes. It is not often we find a young man of your talents."

"I seek only to better myself and the Great House Redoran, milord." Arken suppressed a cringe. The only thing he hated more than losing was schmoozing.

"I have no doubt." He pulled out a particular parchment and glanced it over, "I believe it is overdue that we recognized your many accomplishments for the House." He turned and handed Arken the scroll, "By this order, I have secured your appointment to Lawman in House Redoran and reward you with this stipend." He handed Arken a sizable pouch of gold.

Arken accepted both items and bowed, "Milord is most generous."

"Father."

Lord Redoran was about to comment when his attention turned to the young Dunmer woman who just entered the room.

"I found the book you were looking for."

Lord Redoran accepted a large volume from the girl, "Ah, yes. This is it. Thank you, my dear." She gave a big smile as her father kissed her on the cheek.

Arken nearly had to make a physical effort not to stare. He was looking at what he was sure was the most beautiful Dark Elf woman he'd ever seen. She had long black hair in a ponytail that hung to her lower shoulder blades and eyes that sparkled like garnet gems. She was a very attractive young woman, without a doubt. Either she saw through Arken's attempts not to gawk, or she noticed him of her own accord, but either way, the young woman's attentions found Arken.

"Oh. Father, who might this handsome young gentleman be?"

"I don't believe you've met our most recent Lawman yet." He motioned toward Arken, "Merrenda, this is Arken Dralkes, Lawman of House Redoran. Master Dralkes, this is my lovely daughter, Merrenda Redoran."

She blushed and shrank away from Lord Redoran, "Father, please. You're embarrassing me." In spite of her father, Merrenda followed protocol and extended her hand to Arken

Arken came to his senses when he realized he was being addressed, "The pleasure of this meeting is entirely mine, milady." He bowed, accepting her hand and kissing it, winning a little giggle from her, "And if I may be so bold to say that the lady's beauty knows no bounds."

Merrenda retracted her hand, "Well, you are quite the charmer, aren't you, Master Dralkes?"

Arken raised his eyebrows, "Merely stating the truth, milady." He looked at Lord Redoran, "Perhaps the lord might permit me to grace his lovely daughter with a gift, a small token from a humble lawman."

Lord Redoran looked between the two briefly, "Well, by all means, Master Dralkes."

Arken nodded and held his hands in front of him. He showed both sides before briefly brushing his palms together and a glittering star-cut emerald appearing in his fingers.

He handed the gem to Merrenda, "A small token, milady, though I will say its beauty is paled in comparison to your own."

Merrenda's eyes widened as she accepted the emerald, "Why, thank you, Master Dralkes."

Arken nodded to her, "Again, the pleasure is mine, milady." He looked at Lord Redoran again, "Sadly, I have pressing business of my own I must attend to. With the lord's permission, I will take my leave of you."

Lord Redoran thought for a moment, "Very well. But please remain available. I shall have something for you soon."

Arken bowed to them both, "Thank you, milord. Milady." He turned and left the stateroom. Merrenda's gaze followed him through the door before she looked back at the emerald Arken had given her.

Lord Redoran broke the silence that hung in the air, "He is quite an interesting man. Wouldn't you say, my dear?"

Merrenda's eyes went misty, "He is. He is very interesting, and quite charming, father."

The lord regarded her out of the corner of his eye, "I hope not _too_ charming."

Merrenda rolled her eyes, "Father, I simply said that he's a charming young man. What harm is there in that?"

"A great deal. I know you, Merrenda. I know how you disagree with the old traditions. I've said it once; I've said it a hundred times: You cannot marry outside of your position of kinswoman noble to the House."

Merrenda placed the gem in her pocket, "I still don't see why marriage must be dictated by politics and protocol rather than love."

Lord Redoran sat down at his desk, "Some of us have to make sacrifices so our ways may live on. We all have our places in this world, Merrenda."

She turned to look at her father, "Were you happy in your place when politics forced you to marry mother?"

The lord stopped what he was doing and hung his head slightly. He turned his seat to look at her.

"I found happiness. I grew to love your mother, and you and I both know she would say the same about me. It wasn't easy, but we worked with what we had. Today, I wouldn't give up my relationship with your mother for all the wealth of Tamriel." He stood up and walked to his daughter, taking her hands in his, "My dear, you were born into a world of wealth and comfort. As your father, I want you to have the best I can give you. This world of luxury _is_ the best I can give you, but it has its price. All I ask is that you accept that price, please."

Merrenda looked up and met her father's gaze, "Somehow, father, all the wealth and splendor of Morrowind would seem vain if I couldn't enjoy it with a man that I love."

Lord Redoran breathed a heavy sighed, "Once again, we'll just have to agree to disagree. Now run along, dear. You have duties in the library to attend to."

Merrenda nodded somberly, "Yes, father." She kissed her father's cheek before walking out of the room. Lord Redoran watched her leave, shaking his head and wondering if he would ever get through to her.

Arken looked down at Merrenda, "It's like it was yesterday."

Merrenda brushed some hair away from Arken's forehead, "You still are quite the charming rogue."

Arken shrugged, "'Rogue', yes. 'Charming'…well, that's because you saw Oblivion knows what in me that you liked."

She sat up and looked at him, "Oh, stop that. You're very charming, love. You know how to turn it on when you need to."

Arken snickered and laid his head back, thinking back to past memories.

He picked his head up and looked at her again, "Is that what you thought when I asked you to marry me?" Arken remembered that night very vividly. He and Merrenda were walking hand-in-hand along the outer walkway of the Vivec Temple District. The sky was clear that night and the stars shone brightly in the heavens. Many subsequent meetings had allowed Arken and Merrenda to grow very fond of each other. Tonight would see that change in a grand way.

Merrenda looked up at the night sky and sighed, "Aren't the stars beautiful, Arken?"

Arken looked up, then at her, "You know what I'm going to say."

She rolled her eyes, "I know. Not as beautiful as me. You say that every time."

"And I mean it every time, Merrenda." She shook her head and they let the silence hang in the air for several minutes as they walked.

Arken finally broke the quiet, "Merrenda, I've told you some of my tales, right. The times when I've escaped death with barely my skin."

She nodded, "You've told me and I've seen you. You're either the bravest or the stupidest man I know. I haven't decided which yet."

Arken snickered and returned her nod, "I've seen some creepy stuff. Facing down packs of kagoutis, wild guar, flocks of cliff racers. Fighting bandits, marauders, even daedra sometimes." He paused for a moment as they stopped walking, "But it took me a long time to work up the courage for tonight."

Merrenda looked at him quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this." Arken went to one knee and held her hand in his, "Merrenda…will you marry me?"

Merrenda gasped as her eyes widened and she raised her free hand to cover her mouth. She choked on her own voice for several moments, too shocked to speak.

She stammered over her words when she found her voice again, "Oh, Arken, you know I would…but…" She withdrew her hand and turned away from Arken with her arms crossed and her head down.

Arken stood up, confused by her response, "What is it? What's wrong?" He walked up close behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

Merrenda turned her head to look away from him, intentionally avoiding his gaze, "Arken, you know that I love you, it's just that…it's my father."

"What about him?"

Merrenda took a deep breath to steady her nerves, "My father is firmly set in the ancient traditions. He refuses to let me marry outside of my position."

Arken shrugged, "Can't you talk to him?"

She nodded, "I have, many times, but every time it ends in our agreeing to disagree. He's a stubborn man, Arken. I come by it honestly."

Arken leaned his head over her shoulder to try to look at her, "I'll talk to him. Maybe there's something I can do, some position I can be promoted to that will make him change his mind."

Merrenda shook her head, "You would have to be a kinsman noble. In other words, you'd have to have been born into House Redoran, Arken."

Arken shook his head, refusing to be defeated, "There has to be some way."

Merrenda's head came up as she thought something, "There is a way. You could never meet my father's criteria to allow me to marry you," She turned to face him, "which is why I will step down from my position in the House."

Arken saw the determination in her eyes and shook his head, "No. I won't let you. There has to be another way."

"There is no other way, Arken. I was born into a world of wealth and comfort, but all of that is empty if I can't enjoy it with the man I love. This is my choice. I love you, Arken Dralkes, and I would rather have you than all the wealth of Morrowind."

The scarce tear graced Arken's eye as he looked into Merrenda's eyes, "You would do that for me?"

Merrenda smiled at him, "Without a second thought."

The two closed the gap between them and kissed one another for the first time, wrapping their arms around each other and holding tight. After a long moment, they came apart and Merrenda rested her head on Arken's chest.

Arken ran his fingers through her long black hair and looked down at her, "I promise that I will fulfill my duties to you as your husband. I swear on my parent's graves, I will take care of you and I won't let anything harm you."

Merrenda looked up at him, "You don't need to make that promise. I know you, and I know you'll do your best."

Arken nodded his head subtly as he recalled the fond memory, "You have no idea what it meant to me to know you would be willing to step down so you could marry me."

Merrenda just smiled and laid her head on his shoulder, "Nothing is worth giving you up, love."

Arken scoffed lightly, "I'm a bloody thief, Merrenda. You could have picked a lot better."

Merrenda looked up into his eyes again, "Arken, I married you for _who_ you are, not _what_ you are. _What_ you are is a product of the circumstances you go through in your life. _Who_ you are is who you chose to be in spite of those circumstances. You may be a thief, but you're a good man who's been force to do some awful things in your life. But you chose not to sink into your circumstances and to rise above them." She nestled down into Arken's side, "And that's the part of you that I love, dear."

Arken smiled at his wife and laid his head back. He raised his head again and looked at Merrenda to make another comment, but she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Careful not to disturb her, Arken pulled a blanket from his pack and laid it over her. He then laid his head back and closed his eyes, seeking sleep that was easily found.


	11. Chapter XI

11

Fynix heaved on the big stone door, rewarded with yet another unsuccessful attempt to open it. He stood up straight and cracked his aching back. Fynix needed this particular Ayleid ruin to find pure glow dust. No one had entered the ruin in over a millennium, and that meant the glow dust deposits and glow stones would be fresh and undisturbed. However, Fynix was discovering the reason why no one had been in here in over a thousand years. The door into the ruins was half his height taller and wider and had to weigh a solid ton. Fynix looked at the door and tossed back his hood to scratch his head. He needed to get in, but there seemed to be no way in. He sat down on the steps behind him and stared at the door. There had to be a way to open it.

He started musing out loud to think better, "This door weighs several times as much as I do. That rules out pushing it open. I could try telekinesis, but I don't want to be stuck with a headache for the rest of the week." He breathed a heavy sigh and hung his head, "And my stubborn pride won't let me let go of this problem. If I go somewhere else, this is going to be a burden on my mind for the…" Fynix trailed off and his head snapped up, "Burden. That's it! The door has a burden enchantment on it!" He stood up and started to probe the door again. He placed both palms on the door and summoned his most powerful feather spell. He closed his eyes and poured as much of his strength into the spell as he could, knowing full well that an Ayleid enchantment that lasted this long was nothing to be trifled with. He felt the enchantment resist the feather and pushed harder. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he fought the enchantment. He probed the burden's defenses, looking for a weak point. The enchantment's power dwarfed his own, so he couldn't win by strength alone. He probed further until he found it, the enchantment's weak point. He pushed inward and outward, undoing the burden at the seams. The feather took root and the enchantment dissipated. Fynix opened his eyes and stood up, instantly staggered by a light-headed feeling that washed over him in the wake of his exertion. He shook his head to remove the feeling and looked at the door again. He knew it still wouldn't move as the result of another enchantment, but at least he'd broken the burden.

Fynix started feeling around the edges where the two parts of the door met. There was a slight depression that ran down the height of the door right down the middle, perfectly coinciding with where a seam should be. Fynix furrowed his brow. He'd seen locking spells like this back in Morrowind. This particular type locked a door so well that it literally merged the parts of the door into one piece. Fynix stepped back and held his hands toward the door, releasing his most potent unlocking spell. The door pulsed white for a brief moment, but the seam didn't reappear. Fynix frowned, then stepped forward and touched the door, hoping the tactile contact would help. He used the spell again and the seam reappeared, but disappeared only a moment after.

Fynix narrowed his eyes, "Whatever they locked up in here, they didn't want anyone getting to it." He held his free hand near where the seam should be and used his spell one more time. When the seam reappeared, he jammed his hand into the seam and used a dispel. The seam stayed for a moment longer, giving him enough time to put his shoulder to the door and heave it open. He got the gap just barely wide enough to squeeze through before the enchantment locked up the parts of the door again. Fynix picked up his staff from against the door frame and wiggled himself through the gap. The interior was dark and warm. Fynix went as far down the steps in front of him as the light dared let him and looked around the small room he was in. It was a usual landing for a descending staircase, probably fraught with traps. Fynix's life detection spells hadn't sensed anything, so he clicked his staff on the ground twice, triggering a light spell. A green glow emanated from the head of the staff, illuminating everything within about sixty feet. He continued on around the landing and down the next flight of stairs. The stairs shortly ended in a long downward sloping hallway. Fynix continued down the hall and into the depths of the ruin. He carefully scanned the hallway walls and ceiling, looking for deposits of glow dust or hanging cages with glow stones in them. Fynix furrowed his brow as he walked, puzzled why there wouldn't be either this far up in the ruins. He kept walking downward until he came to a gate at the end of the hall. Another thing that struck Fynix as odd was this gate's design. It wasn't the usual ornately decorated Ayleid gate. In fact, it looked like it had been very hastily constructed. It was solid enough to keep him out, though. Fynix stood back and cast his unlocking spell. He heard the gate's lock unhinge and he pushed the door open.

Beyond the gate was a massive room that was too dark to see the other side from the door. Fynix slipped on his Ring of Nighteye, amplifying the light from his staff. The ring also revealed what he was looking for. There were several glow stones cages hanging from the high ceiling and numerous deposits along the walls. Fynix smiled and moved to go toward one, but stopped when his life detection sensed something. It wasn't necessarily alive according to the spell, but it wasn't dead either. He doused the light from his staff and cautiously advanced toward the life form. He rounded a pillar and found the source of this life. Whatever the creature was, it looked like a lich, but instead of tattered mage robes and a staff, this lich wore head-to-toe armor and carried a sword and shield. The armor looked old but still solid, and the blade at its side had an unexpectedly shiny edge, meaning it was quite sharp. What struck Fynix as most odd about it was if it wasn't hunched over, it would have been a full two feet taller than he was. The lich turned its head slightly toward Fynix, revealing eyes sunken back into a skull-like face that glowed an eerie yellow. The lich opened its mouth and let out a breathy hiss. Fynix shuddered at seeing the lich's face. He'd seen undead before, bonewalkers, skeletons, zombies, but none of them had given him the shivers like this thing.

Fynix turned away to get his glow dust and get out when his boot slipped on some loose dirt. He lost his balance and fell against the pillar, his armor clacking loudly against the stone. The lich turned its head toward the source of the noise and started lumbering toward where Fynix was hiding. He pressed himself against as flat against the pillar as he could. The lich rounded the pillar and looked around while Fynix quietly slid around to another side of the pillar. Fynix pressed his back against the pillar, breathing as silently as possible. The lich's fingers slid onto the corner of the pillar next to his head with the lich following. Fynix held his breath. He had nowhere else to go and he wasn't good enough at Illusion for invisibility. The lich turned his head and looked right at him. Its eyes flared brightly and it let out a hissing shriek. Fynix whipped out his blade and stabbed the lich in the face. It reeled from the blow, pulling backward off the sword and bringing its own blade and shield to bear. Fynix stepped away from the pillar and steeled himself for a fight. The lich stayed behind its shield, slowly circling Fynix, sizing him up. It finally moved the shield aside and swung its sword downward in an overhand strike. Fynix held his sword up to block and was nearly decapitated by his own blade with the force of the blow. The lich was incredibly strong, no doubt about that. Nix took advantage of the lich's long recovery time and aimed a strike for its neck. The tip of the blade slashed across the rotting flesh, but the lich wasn't even phased. Fynix opened a wound in its neck and dust started falling out, but it was undeterred. The lich raised its sword and swung sidearm. Fynix ducked and rolled underneath the swing rather than blocking it. He came to his feet and spun his staff to crack the lower half in the back of the lich's head. Its head jarred forward, but it came back up and looked at him with fiery eyes. It came around with another high sidearm swing. Fynix dropped to one knee and ran his blade into the lich's gut under its cuirass. Once again, it was unharmed by the strike. Fynix pulled his blade out and twirled it in his hand once to shake the dust off. He took a step back and aimed the head of his staff at the lich, unleashing its power. The lightning bolt struck the lich in the chest, but only staggered it. Fynix shook his head and fired off another bolt, striking the lich's chest again and fracturing the armor. A beam of light shot from the crack and faded and the lich shrieked in pain.

Fynix's eyes widened, "That's it then. Break the armor." The lich was angry now. It charged and swung low. Fynix hopped over the swing and swung his own blade around into the lich's shoulder pauldron, chipping a piece off the edge. A beam of light sprung and faded from the chip and the lich recoiled. It attacked with an overhand chop. Fynix sidestepped the strike at the last moment and swung his blade downward on the lich's arm. This time, his sword struck a small maroon gem on the higher forearm of the lich's bracers. The gem shattered and the lich's arm, bracer, and weapon dematerialized to dust.

Fynix looked at the creepy lich and smiled, "So that's your secret. Your armor keeps you alive." He didn't have much time to rejoice over his discovery. The lich stood up to full height and swung its shield downward to crush Fynix. Nix ducked and rolled down and between the lich's legs. He came up and slashed it across a patch of exposed flesh, causing it to reel from the hit. Fynix noticed with destroying that gem, the lich felt pain now. It swung its shield around behind it in a blow that would have broken several of Fynix's bones. He stepped back, the shield brushing his chest lightly, and started looking the lich's armor over for more gems. He identified one on each boot, another on the other bracer, and one on each pauldron. There was no gem on the helmet, but then that would have been too easy. He ducked under the lich's next shield swing and swung his staff around to crack the gem on its left boot. The leg started shedding dust and the lich started limping. Fynix swung again and finished the job, the leg and all attached to it falling to the ground in a pile of dust. The lich caught itself on its shield arm and pushed itself back up to balance on one leg. It hopped forward and swung again. Fynix rotated around the downward swing and slashed his blade down to shatter the gem on that shoulder. The shoulder fell to dust and the arm dropped to the ground. Fynix's eyes bugged when he saw the arm was still moving. He stepped on the gem and crushed it under his boot, the arm disappearing in a cloud. Fynix didn't waste any time in finishing off the very ticked off lich. He smashed the other pauldron gem and the cuirass fell off and vanished. This exposed a large yellow gem embedded in the lich's sternum. Fynix gave his hardest swing and shattered the gem. He backed up as the lich started screaming and convulsing violently. Beams of light shot from various holes in its flesh and started to intensify. The light grew until it consumed the lich's body, when it burst into a hundred pieces. Fynix raised his arm to shield his face from the wave of dust that showered him. When he lowered his arm, there was nothing left of the lich save for a falling cloud of dust.

Fynix sheathed his sword and brushed sweat from his face, "Whatever you were, I hope I never encounter another of you." He turned around toward the rest of the chamber and froze solid. Staring at him out of the darkness were hundreds of pairs of glowing yellow eyes.

"Oh, bugger." Fynix turned to run when he heard a voice echo across the chamber, reciting an Ayleid incantation. Fynix translated it in his mind to say "Back to your eternal slumber, ye demons of the fallen darken. For day is come, be gone with ye, and to this power ye shall hearken." Before his very eyes, the army of liches vanished without a trace. Fynix stayed wary, because he recognized the voice that recited the incantation.

He looked around the dark room to where the voice came from, "Krayven. I would never have guessed you to be the type to turn over a new leaf and start rescuing people."

"Why let the monsters kill you," He dropped from a higher point in the shadows and landed in a crouch, "when it's so much more satisfying to do it myself."

"How did you do that, anyway?"

Krayven jerked his thumb back toward the ruin entrance, "It was inscrolled across the wall at the entrance. I would have thought you the type to notice that."

Fynix raised his eyebrows, "I was a little preoccupied with something else when coming in here."

Krayven smiled, "As I guessed. The Ayleid Sacred Army was the greatest fighting force the Ayleids ever created. They specially forged and enchanted thousands of suits of armor to keep the wearer alive through any wound. Unfortunately, over time, they became…unreliable and very dangerous even to those they fought for. The Ayleids feared the army's power so much that they confined them here for eternity. I figured you would have known that history lesson."

Fynix shrugged, "I'm not much of a student of Ayleid history, just craftsmanship." Nix rested his hand on his sword, ready to draw it again, "So if this army is so powerful, why aren't you using them to conquer Tamriel?"

"The same reason the Ayleids feared them: they can't be controlled. Now why don't you pick up your sorry little magical backside and waddle on out of here before this gets ugly."

Fynix scoffed, "That didn't take long. It got ugly when you showed up."

Krayven shrugged, "Do they hand out the stale sense of humor with the accent for you Dunmer or something? You're in my way, and I'm really not in the mood to have to drag your blackened corpse out of here. Leave!"

"Didn't you hear? I have business in this place, too. And from where I'm standing, you're in my way."

Krayven rubbed his forehead with his fingers, "What is it with Dunmer and not taking warnings when they're given?" He looked at Fynix and any shred of joviality on his face vanished, "I guess you've elected for the hard way. I can facilitate that." Krayven snapped his hand forward and cast a fireball. Fynix stood his ground and held up his forearm, absorbing the magicka of the flame and reducing it to nothing more than an uncomfortable heat.

Krayven blinked at what he saw, "I must say, I wasn't expecting that. Can you catch this?" He snapped out his other hand and released a lightning bolt. Fynix rotated and moved his staff into the bolt's path, the staff's lightning enchantment instantly absorbing a similar magic.

Krayven cocked his head to one side, "You've gotten better since we last met, Fynix." He reached his hand toward Fynix's feet and released a different fireball. The ball struck the ground in front of Fynix and exploded violently, throwing him back several feet.

Krayven walked up and stood over him, "But so have I." He raised his foot to step on Fynix's chest when he reached up and grabbed Krayven's throat in a telekinetic hold. Krayven gasped and clawed at his neck as Fynix stood to his feet. What Fynix didn't count on was that Krayven never fought fair. He kicked a heap of loose dust up into Fynix's face, causing him to cough and release his grip. As Fynix waved the air in his face free of dust, Krayven drew his claymore and pressed the attack. Fynix's vision cleared just in time to see a big, armor-clad Imperial charging at him. He drew his sword and crossed it with his staff to block Krayven's overhand swing. He spun sideways as he released the blade and cracked Krayven in the back of the skull with the lower part of the staff. Krayven stumbled forward and looked at Fynix, who twirled his staff around in one hand to get it back into guard position.

Krayven rubbed the back of his head, "That's the best you have? Hitting me with a stick?"

Fynix shrugged, "That's the best you have? A weak insult?" Krayven snarled and charged Fynix with his blade held out to the side. Fynix moved his staff to block it and picked up the lower part of the blade. At the same time, he swung his own sword around at Krayven's side. Unexpectedly, Krayven turned in place to take the sword strike squarely on the back of his cuirass, damaging the metal slightly, but not harming him any more than a bruise. He then snapped out a foot and kicked Fynix in the gut, doubling him over and pushing him back to the wall. Fynix recovered in time to roll against the wall as Krayven's sword slashed down and made sparks along the wall where he just was. Fynix stopped and felt something near his hand. He looked and found a deposit of glow dust, just what he was looking for. He quickly hacked off a large piece and stuck it in a sack before Krayven's blade came at his again. His sidearm slash cleanly struck the wall again as Fynix dropped onto his back. He pulled a small potion vial from his belt and closed his eyes as he smashed it against the wall. The darkness flashed as the potion within released a powerful light all at once. Krayven was caught completely off guard and temporarily lost his sight as his eyes adjusted to the rapid change in lighting. Fynix stayed down and swept his leg through Krayven's, knocking him to the floor. Fynix braced on his staff and picked himself up while Krayven shoulder-hopped to his feet. He stood there for a moment, blinking the flash from the potion out of his eyes. Fynix came at him with his sword out next to him and his staff in front to guard. Krayven's sight came back in time to block the strike and slid it into a corpse-a-corpse.

Fynix pushed against Krayven's blade as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Who are you working for, Krayven? Blackwood Company? Mythic Dawn? Who?"

Krayven smiled, "Oh, I'm here on my own time. My employer doesn't even know I've left. Don't worry, you'll meet him soon enough." Krayven heaved his weight against the swords and pushed Fynix back. He stood up straight and pointed the long blade at Fynix, "But by then, Arken will be too late to stop me. I won't have to worry about you, because you'll be dead!" He charged at Fynix with his blade held low in a thrusting position. Without thinking, Fynix punched the floor beneath him, releasing his frost spell. The frost wave glazed the floor over with ice and frosted over Krayven's boots, effectively freezing him to the floor. The sudden lack of mobility caused Krayven to trip, shattering the ice covering his boots as he fell. He hit the floor hard and Fynix closed the distance between them. He placed his hand on Krayven's back and frosted over his cuirass with a thick layer of ice, adding another several pounds. Fynix stood and sprinted toward the gate. The ice was just going to slow Krayven down and make him mad, not stop him. Fynix bounded through the gate and slammed it shut behind him. He cast a locking spell on the gate, the inverse of an opening spell. The gate's locks all latched shut with a metallic clank. For good measure, Fynix held his hand near the lock and summoned his fire spell. The lock glowed red and melted slightly before Fynix reversed the temperature and cooled it off to harden it. Krayven reached the gate, bits of ice still clinging to his armor, and rattled it hard, but it didn't give. He reached through the bars at Fynix, but he merely stepped out of Krayven's reach.

Krayven's eyes gleamed with anger in the darkness, "Curse on you and all your kind, Dunmer."

Fynix smirked and shook his head, "You really need to think of some better threats, old boy. Ta." Krayven's hateful scream followed Fynix out of the ruins. Half tempted to reseal the door on the outside, Fynix ignored the whim on account of too much work and mounted Jerrall to make the best time away from here that he could. If there was anything that repeated encounters with Krayven had taught him, it's that no cell really can hold Krayven Harkonus for very long. Fynix pulled out his list. Two important materials had been collected and they were well on their way. He smiled as he looked toward the Imperial City. White Gold Tower stood majestically in the center like a spike of gleaming stone.

Fynix nodded as he spoke to no one in particular, "Soon, Martin. Very soon now."


	12. Chapter XII

12

Arken gave Ebony a gentle kick in the ribs to goad her up the mountain path in the Jerrall Mountains. He and Merrenda had arrived in Cyrodill two days ago and had made best speed for Cloud Ruler Temple as soon as they set foot on dry land. They rounded the bend in the path and came to a stop before the front gates.

Merrenda leaned her head over Arken's shoulder, "Is that it?"

Arken nodded, "That's it. Cloud Ruler Temple, the great fortress of the Blades. A handful of men could hold this mountain against an army from that fort." He looked up to the watch posts, "Ho, there!"

A Blade appeared above the gate and looked down at them. Rather than calling down to him to confirm his identity, the Blade silently disappeared from the wall and a moment later the two gates swung open with one Blade pushing each. Arken shrugged and gave Ebony a kick and rode through the gates up to the stable. He hopped off and assisted Merrenda dismounting. She looked around as Arken pulled the saddle bags off.

"The place doesn't much lend itself to privacy, does it."

Arken gave Ebony an affectionate scratch behind the ears and threw the bags over his shoulder, "We'll have plenty of time for that later, love." He smiled and raised his eyebrows to her, winning a coy smile from her. He leaned around into the stable doorway and found Jerrall lashed to one of the posts. Either Fynix never left or he was back already. He motioned Merrenda to follow him and made his way to the Great Hall. He pushed the doors open to find Baurus, Jauffre, and Fynix all standing in the hall talking. Every head in the room turned when the doors opened. Everyone had a different reaction to their arrival. Baurus simply nodded his head, Fynix smiled, and Jauffre looked visibly relieved. Fynix walked over to Arken and the two locked hands in an aggressive handshake.

Fynix patted Arken on the shoulder, "Good to see you back, old friend." His smile lessened, "Did you find her?"

Arken smiled and stepped aside to reveal Merrenda standing behind him. Fynix's face lit up when he saw her.

"Merrenda. The pleasure of seeing you alive is too great to hold in."

Merrenda shook her head, "Formalities for another time, Fynix." She wrapped her arms around his neck in a friendly embrace, "How have you been?"

Fynix hugged her in return and pulled back, "I've been well. Shy of being arrested and confined to prison for a year and rescuing the whole of Tamriel from an invasion of daedra from Oblivion, my life has been relatively uneventful."

Merrenda smiled and shook her head, "Same old Fynix." She stepped back and put her arm around her husband.

Arken looked up from Merrenda's gaze to Fynix, "By the way, I owe your parents a formal 'thank you'. They were responsible for why Merrenda is here today."

Fynix raised his eyebrows, "Mother is no mage, but she has picked up a thing or two about Restoration in her years."

Merrenda giggled and stretched up to kiss Arken. Fynix looked shocked and put his hands on his hips as he addressed her.

"Now why don't I get a kiss? I gave him the moral support for that year. Have you any idea how much your husband can whine?"

Merrenda patted Arken on the chest, "I'm married to him. He gets first dibs."

Baurus walked up next to Fynix, "So this is the proverbial Merrenda I've heard so little about." He graced her with a low bow, "Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. My name is Baurus."

Merrenda nodded to him, "Pleased to meet you, Baurus." She pointed to him and looked up at Arken, "This is the man you said nearly got himself killed at the Battle of Bruma, right?"

Arken nodded and subtly shrugged to Baurus, "Well, yeah, he's the one."

Baurus scoffed, "And what else has he told you about me, I wonder."

"That he would trust no one else to get his back in a fight besides you and Fynix."

"Arken."

Arken looked to the direction the voice came from. Jauffre was standing aloof from everyone else. He jerked his head in his direction. Arken nodded and patted Merrenda's hand as he slipped out of her arms and left the three to talk. He walked over to Jauffre and the two moved away so their voices wouldn't carry.

"What is it?"

Jauffre darted his eyes over toward Merrenda, "Why did you bring her here?"

Arken's face began to harden, "I'm not letting her out of my sight while this is going on. Don't worry. Merrenda is very trustworthy."

Jauffre nodded, suppressing what he wanted to say, forcing himself to remember that Arken had his own reasons for doing things, "Not that I don't trust your judgment, but I will keep an eye on her for a little while to satisfy my own suspicions."

Arken nodded somberly, then smirked, "Just don't go eyeing her too much, or I'll make sure she's the last woman you ever see." Even Jauffre chuckled at the comment before it took on a far more serious tone.

The smile on Arken's face faded, "I found out who's behind the assassins, and who Krayven's working for." He swallowed hard, "It's the Mythic Dawn."

Jauffre's eyes widened, "What? I thought we saw the last of them after Dagon was thrashed at the temple."

Arken scoffed, "I thought we did, too. Apparently, they have something else up their long red sleeves now."

Jauffre nodded, "Did you find anything else?"

Arken shook his head, "No. Any new developments here since I've been gone?"

Jauffre took a deep breath, "Well, we've discovered a spy who's been watching us from further down the mountain. You may have noticed that we didn't call down to you from the gate. That was to avoid attracting his attention. It makes sense that he's working for the Mythic Dawn."

"Why not just kill him?"

Jauffre shook his head, "Last time the Mythic Dawn had a spy up here, we dealt with them harshly and caused them to accelerate their plans. I plan on feeding this spy bad information whenever possible. Hopefully, your arrival went unnoticed."

Arken nodded slowly, "If the Mythic Dawn doesn't know I'm back, then they won't know you have my skills again."

Jauffre nodded, "Exactly." He looked over to the gaggle of people behind Arken, "Now, I would very much like to meet this mystery woman who is your wife."

Arken landed a hand heavily on Jauffre's shoulder and started leading him over, "I thought you'd never ask." He brought him over and pulled Merrenda's attention from her conversation.

Arken motioned to Jauffre, "Merrenda, this is Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades. Jauffre, this is my wife, Merrenda Dralkes."

Jauffre gave her a low bow, "The pleasure is mine, milady."

Merrenda nodded in acknowledgement, "I've heard much about you, Grandmaster."

As the rest talked, Arken let out a quiet shrill whistle that got Fynix's attention. He jerked his head away from the group and the two moved to a safe distance.

Fynix motioned back toward the group, "Merrenda hasn't changed a bit, Ark."

"So I've gathered." He crossed his arms, "What still needs to be collected?"

Fynix pulled out his list, "Well, I've gotten most of the magical items, only one more thing there. I still need the pure oak wood. The Great Forest northeast of Cheydinhal can provide that. I'll need about half a cord for something to work with."

Arken nodded, "Consider it gotten, just as soon as I rest some and pull Baurus away from his conversation. I think we can fit half a cord on two horses."

"Take Jerrall with you. He can carry most of the wood, and he's stronger than Ebony."

"Thanks. What about the last magical item?"

Fynix took a deep breath, "I'm going to need some help acquiring it, but I've already called someone in. Gotten them approved to come here by Jauffre and all. First, though, I need to start the process of refining the glow dust, then I need to finish cutting the glass, and extract a crystal from a statue."

Arken scoffed, "You forgot murder your wife and blame Hammerfell for it."

Fynix nodded, "Yes. Quite a list of things to do, isn't it. I'm expecting my help to arrive any minute now." As if on cue, the front doors opened and someone strode in. The person was wearing the traditional blue robes of a mage, not like Fynix's green and brown. They threw their hood back to reveal the face of a Dunmer woman, fairly striking in appearance, with short brown hair and close set eyes. She set her pack of things down as Fynix began walking toward her.

Baurus leaned over to Jauffre, "Last I checked, we were in Cyrodill, not Morrowind. Why are we being invaded by Dark Elves all of a sudden?" Jauffre just shrugged.

"Talliea." Fynix extended his hand as he approached her, "It's good to see…" Fynix quickly found himself trying to speak through a pair of lips over his own. The Dunmer girl threw an arm around his neck and pulled him in to kiss him passionately. They pulled apart after a moment and Fynix looked stunned.

The girl, Talliea, smiled at him, "That's for all the years I haven't seen you."

Fynix shrugged, "Well, thank you. I'm glad…" Once again Fynix couldn't finish his sentence on account of nearly having his face relocated to the back of his head by the hardest slap he'd ever felt.

Talliea's tone changed somewhat, "And that's for walking out on me the way you did."

Fynix worked his jaw around for a moment, "Talliea, can we talk about this some other time? The barracks are over there. Why don't you get freshened up."

She hefted her bag onto her back again, locking eyes with Fynix, "We _will_ talk about this while I'm here, Fynix. Count on it." She brushed past him and headed to the West Wing. Fynix started working his jaw some more and rubbing his face when he noticed Arken's and Merrenda's stupefied looks.

Fynix just smiled sheepishly as he rubbed his face, "Old girlfriend."

Arken just stared wide-eyed, "I didn't take you for the type? You care to explain what that was all about?"

"Long story." Fynix took a deep breath, "_Very_ long story." He nodded his head toward the barracks, "Excuse me." He quickly removed himself from the hall and went to the barracks where he found Talliea sitting on a bench as though she were waiting. She saw Fynix enter the room and looked the other way.

Fynix walked up next to her, "You wanted to talk about it. Let's talk."

She finally graced him with her gaze, "Don't you have more important things?"

Fynix shook his head, "If this issue is going to get in the way, then for the sake of efficiency if nothing else, they can wait." He sat down on the bench next to her, "Perhaps I should start with saying I'm sorry."

Talliea scoffed, "'Sorry' doesn't quite sum it up, Fynix. You just left me there. You walked out without so much as saying good bye. 'Sorry' doesn't really cover something like that."

"I had something important I needed to do. Father needed my help for dealing with a Telvanni official. He was a hair's breadth from being arrested, Talliea. Then Arken needed…"

"He's another problem." Talliea looked Fynix in the eye, "You could have told me your best friend was a Divine-forsaken thief."

Fynix pulled his head back, "How did you find out about that?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned her elbows on her knees, "Your arrest wasn't exactly private knowledge in Sadrith Mora, Fynix. After a little snooping around, I found out a lot about your 'friend'."

"I don't like that tone, Talliea."

She looked at him again, "What in Dagoth's name does my tone have to do with it?"

Fynix shifted in the seat to look at her better, "Plenty. Arken may be a thief, but deep inside, he's a good man. And whether or not I have your approval, he is my friend, and I will stand by him as such." Fynix took a deep breath to calm down, "But Arken isn't the matter here. It's us, so let's talk about us."

Talliea hung her head and looked away, "There is no more 'us', Fynix." She stood and walked a few steps away, "Sometimes, I don't think there ever was."

Fynix slumped back against the wall. He wasn't much one to be affected by what others say about him, but Talliea's last comment cut him to the bone. He leaned forward and held his forehead in his hands.

Fynix took a deep breath, "I'm sorry." He took another shaky breath, fighting back the tears that were desperately trying to fall, "I'm sorry that I treated you that way, Talliea. I'm sorry that I didn't appreciate what we had together." He took another shaky breath and stood, "And I'm sorry that neither of us can seem to let it go and move on." He walked half way to the door and stopped, "If you can't work with me because of this, I'll understand."

_Neither of us can seem to let it go_. The words echoed in Talliea's mind for what seemed like an eternity. She was about to turn to grab her things and head out the door just as fast as she arrived, when she made a startling realization. She wasn't the only one who was hurt when Fynix left. Fynix had never gotten over it either. Maybe, just maybe, there was something left there. She turned to look at him as he was getting to the door.

"Fynix."

The mage stopped in the threshold for a moment before turning his head to meet her gaze, the signs of fighting back near a quarter century of regret obvious on his face.

"Just tell me where you want me to work." It wasn't what she wanted to say, but it was enough for now.

Fynix smiled weakly, "Thanks, Talli."

Arken and Merrenda were sitting on one of the benches in the Great Hall apart from everyone else, his arm around her, gently stroking her hair.

Merrenda picked her head up from resting it on his shoulder and looked at Arken, "Did he ever tell you about this before?"

Arken's eyes were distant as he was thinking back to everything he knew about his best friend, "Never. I would never have picked him out for the dating type, much less having a steady relationship. This is entirely new to me." Arken scoffed, "Sort of makes me wonder what else he may be hiding."

Merrenda shook her head, "I doubt he's hiding much of anything beyond this. Fynix isn't like you, love. He doesn't have a dirty past to bury."

Arken shrugged lightly, "Well, you never know. And I'd like to find out." The door to the West Wing opened and Fynix came through into the hall, looking several centuries older for the few minutes he was in there. He had a sullen, yet somehow happy, look on his face as he made a direct line for the library.

Arken slid out of Merrenda's arms as he stood up, "Now's my chance. I'll be right back, love." Arken followed Fynix into the library, silencing the sound his glass boots made on the hard wood floor as he went. He slipped through the door as it closed behind Fynix and stood behind him as he slowly walked to his table.

"You hiding anything else?"

Fynix turned around with a start, but calmed down when he saw who it was, "By the Nine! Arken, don't spook me like that again."

Arken just nodded, "So do you care to explain that little scene in the hall?"

Fynix leaned one arm on his table and breathed a deep sigh, seemingly resigning himself to something he knew was coming. He turned to face Arken and sat down on the table.

"In Morrowind, twenty nine years and four months before you and I were arrested and deported, I was attending a seminar at the local wizard's tower in Sadrith Mora. I thought it would be like any normal classroom session." He paused and scoffed, "How wrong could I have been? The first half of the class went as normal, but when we reconvened after the break is when everything started happening. Shortly after the wizard started the session, one of the students stood up and posed a question. Her question was a good one, well thought out, but not put forth very respectfully. She was challenging the wizard to explain something. Several subsequent challenges and their resulting failed explanations turned all the tempers up so hot that the wizard banished her from the class. Naturally curious, I left and followed her out, wanting to know how she could speak to a wizard that way. When I found her and got her attention…" Fynix trailed off and his eyes went misty, "Ark, you should have seen her. She was perfect. Her eyes glowing like deadric flames set in crystal. Her brown hair falling to her shoulders in a fine flow of auburn silk. She was wonderful, Arken."

Arken pulled a chair out and sat down straddling the back, "That, I assume, was this girl, this Talliea?"

Fynix nodded slowly, "Talliea Caranea, daughter of Kamus Caranea."

Arken furrowed his brow, "Kamus? Wait a minute. He was one of my smiths in the Coalition."

Fynix nodded, "Small world, isn't it? Anyway, we spoke at length about her behavior in the classroom. She started bringing up a number of points about magic that I agreed with. Her specialty was Conjuration, not exactly my field. She achieved master not two years later, the fastest mastery of Conjuration recorded to date. Also over that time, we grew fond of each other. You might call it love, but we both don't really know what came over us during that time. It was good, what we had. It would have been better if I had put more effort into it and appreciated it more, but I was younger and fairly dim then. Our relationship had been strained at times, but we just chalked it up to life. That is until one day I received a letter from my father. He was in Mar Gaan, and Telvanni officials had falsely accused him of sedition, the Telvanni's way of saying that he was using magic in ways they didn't approve of. He needed my help to prove his innocence. Without thinking, I packed my things and left immediately, completely disregarding a date that Talliea and I had set up previously. It only occurred to me after I arrived that I had walked out on her, so I wrote her a hasty letter that said I wasn't going to be able to make it to any of our dates for a while." Fynix sighed and hung his head, "I was a fool. I should have gone and told her before I left. I should have put more effort into our relationship." He banged his fist on the table, "I shouldn't have been so bloody stupid!"

Arken simply sat as he watched the Dunmer he had known for nearly half a century as a friend unfold before him. He had never seen Fynix angry before, not like this. Now he understood why Fynix always buried himself in his work. It wasn't because of his passion for magic and the arcane arts, though that was a significant factor. It was because he was trying to forget. He was trying to blot out the memory of love found and lost on account of youthful foolishness. Fynix stood there rubbing his forehead and fighting back the scream that was perched in his throat.

Arken sighed, "Well, Nix, no one can turn back time. No matter how powerful you may be, you are still mortal. And mortals make mistakes. Mortals cannot always live up to the requirements life puts on them."

Fynix looked at Arken with a scowl on his face, "What would you know about life's requirements? You're three years younger than me anyway."

Arken couldn't hold his cool after a comment like that. He stood up abruptly, toppling his chair forward, and stormed up to Fynix, getting in his face.

"I know plenty about it, mister! You see that woman out there, my wife? I thought she was _dead_ for the past year. I thought she was dead, and I thought it was my fault that she was dead. I thought that if I had fought harder, moved faster, been better, that she'd still be alive. I've had to live for over a year, knowing in my own mind that it was _my_ fault she was dead. I have had over a year to regret all the things I wanted to say to her but never said. All the things I wanted to do with her but never did. All the things I wanted to give her but never gave. I would rather live in the fires of Mehrunes Dagon's realm for the rest of my centuries than live that one year of endless regret. I got lucky, because life gave me a second chance with her." Arken stepped back took a deep breath to calm down, "And this may be the second chance life is giving you. Don't regret your mistakes, Nix. Learn from them. Learn from them, and if you get a second try, do it better this time to put that regret at ease. That's what life's all about, Nix. Don't just survive. _Live_. Live without regret."

Tears welled up in Fynix's eyes, "I'm sorry, Ark. That wrong of me. I should have…" He trailed off as he covered his face with one hand and the tears began to flow.

Arken walked up to him and put his hands on his shoulders, "Water under the bridge, Nix."

Fynix wiped his eyes and looked at Arken, "You're the best friend I could ever have asked for, Ark." He smiled and snickered lightly, "Even if you are a bloody thief."

Arken smiled, "Even if I am a thief." He frazzled Fynix's hair, "Why don't you stay here for a while, pull yourself together." Arken smirked, "Wouldn't want Talliea to see you all shaken up like this."

Fynix smiled and pushed Arken, "Get out of here, will you?"

Arken gave Fynix's shoulders a reassuring squeeze before he let go and left the room. Fynix slowly walked around his table and sat down in his chair. He sat there for a long time, just thinking about what Arken said. Most of the time, he never thought about it. When it did surface in his thoughts, he buried himself in his studies to block it out. But there were still those occasional nights where he would lie awake, thinking about it, regretting the foolish decisions he'd made back then. But maybe, just maybe, life had given him a second chance. Maybe this was his opportunity to put his regret to rest once and for all. Fynix smiled at the concept. With a hopeful heart and a steady hand, he picked up his glass cutter and started working on the piece that was on his table, hoping that this chance wouldn't be wasted.

Arken walked out into the Great Hall and rejoined Merrenda on the bench.

She made no effort to hide her curiosity, "Well?"

Arken just waved it away, "It's a long story, love. I'll tell you later."

Merrenda scoffed, "Well, something went on in there. Half the Temple could hear you screaming."

Arken sighed, "Just airing differences and learning lessons, dear. Lessons we all could afford to learn early on." He looked over at Baurus, "Baurus. Are you going to be ready to leave at dawn?"

The Redguard gave a confident nod, "I'll be ready when you are."

"Good." Arken put his arm around his wife and squeezed her close, "The sooner we get Martin's backside on the throne, the sooner we can all get back to our lives."


	13. Chapter XIII

13

Arken walked out of the library holding his bow and quiver in one hand and his sword in the other. He set the weapons on a table as Baurus emerged from the barracks in full armor with his own weapons.

He set his shield down and looked at Arken as he began fastening his katana to his belt, "So we're after a bunch of wood this time?"

Arken nodded as he cinched his quiver strap, "About half a cord, yes. Nix said this wood has particular magical properties that are needed for the portal tower. And it has to be relatively fresh."

Baurus shrugged as he tightened his belt, "Hmm. I was wondering why we couldn't just use some of the wood from around here, but I guess that answers that." He looked down at his waist and frowned, "Man, I have to cut down on the bread."

Arken finished affixing his sword to his belt when something caught his attention in his peripheral vision. He looked and saw Merrenda coming out of the barracks wearing a full suit of Elven armor and setting a sword on her belt.

Arken cinched the last strap and walked over to her, "And just where do you think you're going?"

Merrenda met his gaze and replied very casually, "I'm going with you."

Arken shook his head, "Oh, no. You are not coming with me. You are staying right here."

Merrenda's shoulders sunk, "Arken, we talked about this years ago. We agreed that it was only fair that if you were putting yourself in danger, then I should go with you and not wait around worrying myself to death."

"Worry is a lot less lethal than blades, arrows, and magic. I don't want you coming with me on this."

Merrenda frowned and her face hardened, "Arken, you pride yourself on being a man of your honor. You are going back on you word, dear. We agreed, remember?"

Arken shot a glance over at Baurus to see if he heard Merrenda's comment before grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out of earshot. He brought her over to one corner of the hall and spoke at a more hushed volume.

"That was before I saw you die in my arms and had to live for a year thinking you were dead. I lost you once, and Oblivion take me if I'm going to lose you again."

Merrenda put her hands on her hips, "So that's what this is about. Arken, you're scared."

"I'm not scared," He immediately went on the defensive, "I'm just playing it cautiously. You know me."

She nodded curtly, "I do know you, and that's how I can tell you're scared."

Arken's shoulders dropped as he resigned himself to losing an argument to his wife. He took her hands in his and looked her in the eye.

"You want the truth? I am scared. I'm terrified. I'm scared that I might lose you again. It nearly tore me apart the first time, and I don't know if I could survive losing you again. Please, just humor me and stay here where you'll be safe."

Merrenda freed one of her hands and touched Arken's cheek, "If you didn't want me coming with you, you should never have taught me how to handle a sword."

Arken grimaced, "Hmm. I did do that, didn't I." He took a deep breath and sighed, "Then you'll stay close to me. I'm not letting you out of my sight. You get me?"

Merrenda smiled, "I get you." The two kissed each other briefly before rejoining Baurus, who by now was waiting on one of the benches.

He looked over at the Dunmer pair and snickered, "You two lovebirds finished?"

Arken ignored the remark, "Merrenda's coming with us. She can handle a blade well enough, trust me on that, and we could use an extra set of eyes. The Mythic Dawn haven't bothered us for a while, but I don't think it means they've given up."

Baurus shrugged and stood up, "I welcome her if you do. Where are we headed?"

Arken pushed the main doors open as the trio walked to the stables, "The Great Forest, northeast of Cheydinhal. Merrenda, you'll take Fynix's horse, Jerrall, until we get there. When he has to carry the wood, you can double up with me."

Merrenda stopped in her tracks, "Um, love? I've never ridden a horse by myself before."

Arken looked at her while he unlashed Jerrall, "It's just like riding a guar, except you need to kick backward with your heels, not forward with your toes." He led Jerrall up to his wife and looked at the horse, "Hey, big guy. This is Merrenda. She's my wife. You take good care of her now. You hear me?"

Merrenda cautiously reached forward as Jerrall leaned his head forward to sniff her. After a moment of examination, the horse leaned forward and nuzzled her with his muzzle.

Arken smiled, "You see? He's a gentle giant. You'll be fine." He looked over at Ebony and let out a shrill whistle. The horse tugged at the slip-knot that Arken always used to lash her up and untied it. She tossed her head back to throw the reins back to the saddle as she turned and trotted up next to Arken.

Arken motioned to Ebony's saddle as he explained, "You need to put your foot here, in the stirrup, then grab here and here. Then just heave yourself up and whip your other leg over and around the horse's behind at the same time. Watch." Arken slipped his foot into the stirrup and mounted Ebony like a professional. Merrenda carefully followed his example, putting her foot into the stirrup and heaving herself upward. After an unsuccessful try, she pulled herself up and unsteadily seated herself in Jerrall's saddle.

Arken smiled again, "You'll get it. Don't worry." He looked beyond her, "Baurus, you mounted up?"

The Redguard rode out of the stables on one of the chestnuts from Weynon Priory and headed toward the gates, "Ready and riding. Let's go."

Arken nodded to Baurus and looked to Merrenda, "Give him a gentle kick with your heels, just like a guar."

Merrenda kicked Jerrall in the ribs and started the horse moving. It didn't take her long to gain a grasp of how to maneuver the animal once she discovered the similarities between horseback riding and guar riding in her native Morrowind. The trio rode out through the gates and headed down the winding mountain path toward Bruma. They rode past the city before Merrenda rode up next to Arken and broke the silence.

"So we're looking for pure oak wood? What's so special about this particular type of wood?"

Arken shrugged, "Something about the magically conductive properties. I don't know. Fynix used too many big words with lots of syllables to catch it all."

"Well, he never really had a grasp on how to simplify things for those not educated in magic."

Arken scoffed, "Tell me about it." He looked down the road as it straightened out, then looked back at Baurus, "Hey, Baurus. Race you to the fork in the road."

Baurus kicked his horse hard, "You're on."

------------

The Mythic Dawn leader opened the door to find Whilem dutifully working away on the device. He had constructed it into a tripod about three quarters as tall as a man, the Welkynd Stone hanging from the apex. He saw Krayven leaning against the wall, keeping a bored, wary, and somewhat bloodthirsty eye on Whilem. He walked up next to him to find him cutting a piece of glass into a sharp hook shape. The mage looked up with a start when he noticed his captor hovering over him like a hungry vulture.

The man nodded toward the piece of glass, "So how's it coming?"

Whilem put down the glass and wiped his brow, "Slowly. I can't get this as precise as it needs to be with the equipment I have. I need a better cutter if I'm going to get this…" His sentence was cut short by the employer snapping out his hand and grabbing Whilem's throat. He held the mage in a restrained grip, wanting for all the world to choke the life from him then and there.

He leaned in closer to Whilem's ear, "You are tremendously fortunate that I haven't abruptly ended your whiney little life several times over. Your complaints are becoming tiresome at best." He released Whilem's throat and looked at another red-robed guard in the room, "Get him a better glass cutter. Now!" As the guard left the room, he looked back at Whilem, "You are indeed fortunate that I need you as much as I do. If we didn't, I would have let my minion tear your heart from your chest where you stand." He heard Krayven growl from behind him at being referred to as a minion.

Whilem stood his ground and looked at him, "I'm sorry, but I can't do any better. I'm doing the best I can with what I have, but what I have is shoddy at best. If you want this device to work properly, I'll need better tools to construct it."

The employer turned and left the room in a huff, thoroughly displeased with the apparent lack of progress. Krayven watched him leave before returning his attention to the mage once he was gone.

"Good work. You've bought some time."

Whilem leaned on the table, "I can't keep stalling like this. Eventually, he'll catch on. Once he does…"

"By the time he figures out what's going on, it'll be too late for him to do anything about it. Listen, you want the reward _I_ promised you, or the one he'll give you?"

The mage turned to look at him warily, "I want whichever reward involves me walking out of here alive and in one piece. I don't trust either one of you."

Krayven smiled sadistically, "And if you don't want me to prove why you shouldn't trust me, you'll do as _I_ say, not what he says. Catch my drift."

Whilem hung his head and nodded, "I understand." Unwillingly, the mage picked up the glass cutter again and resumed working on the piece he was cutting. Krayven smiled and chuckled in his throat. Soon, he would have what he wanted. Then, not even the great Arken Dralkes could stop him.

------------

Fynix ran the glass cutter over the edge of the piece he was working on. He pushed it over a rough spot and disliked the results. The cutter did its job and sliced off the rough edge, unfortunately driving the shard right into his thumb. Fynix set the cutter down and looked at the glass in his thumb. He put the glass down and painfully removed the shard from his skin. He set it down in a small pile with others of its ilk and cast a healing spell over his hand to seal the cut. He looked at his hands and the number of new cuts and scratches he'd gained over the course of cutting the glass. Fortunately, he'd just finished the last piece, so his hands wouldn't be getting sliced to bloody ribbons anymore.

"You know, you wouldn't need to do that if you took your time."

Fynix turned his head back to look at Talliea, "It's time we don't have. The Mythic Dawn are up to something, and the sooner we can get Martin out of Aetherius, the sooner we won't have to worry about them hatching their plan before we can get to him."

Talliea held her hands over a small piece of leftover ebony no bigger than a coin and closed her eyes. Just under her palms, a small portal opened and began dropping what looked like red snowflakes. The last magical item was Oblivion energies, magicka that rested between planes of Oblivion, enchanted in a series of stones to be set on dials for the portal tower.

Fynix turned his chair around to see her better, "If you don't mind my asking, how long do you think this will take?"

Talliea's portal closed abruptly and she dropped her hands in frustration, "Do you want these energies or not?"

Fynix's eyes widened in shock, "I'll just leave you to your work then." He turned his seat around again and pulled out the book to study the tower schematics.

Talliea hung her head and cursed her quick temper, "I'm sorry, Fynix. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

Fynix continued to look at the book, "You don't need to apologize, Talliea. I understand."

She walked over and knelt next to his chair, "Really, Fynix. I'm sorry."

Fynix looked up from the book and met her gaze, "Talliea, I understand. Conjuration isn't an easy art. I shouldn't have distracted you the way I did."

Talliea breathed an inner sigh of relief and looked into Fynix's eyes, "I just thought you were mad at me. That's all."

Fynix shook his head, "If anything, you should be mad at me for breaking your concentration. But now that I do have your attention, do you know how long the process will take?"

Talliea shrugged and rested her arms and chin on the armrest, "I'm not really sure. I do know it may take some time."

Fynix sat back in the chair, "Well, why is that? Isn't Oblivion energy all the same?"

Talliea shook her head, "No. Not at all." She turned and pulled a book from the stack, _On Oblivion_, "This volume is a little outdated, but it'll work." She turned to a diagram and gestured to it as she spoke, "You see, there are sixteen planes of Oblivion, seventeen if you count Aetherius, and we will for the sake of argument. Each plane is the world its master crafted for themselves. Azura's Moonshadow, Meridia's Coldharbour, you get the idea. However, there is a gap that lies between each of these worlds. This is the space you instantaneously travel across when stepping through a portal between planes. That is where the energies of Oblivion lie and that's what we need. I have to find energy that's suitable to charge the tower, or else it will be too weak."

Fynix slowly nodded his head, taking a brief moment to absorb all that Talliea had just said, "So it's like enchanting something, just with a different type of magic?" Talliea nodded in confirmation.

"And why do we need Oblivion energy in particular?"

Talliea pointed to the schematics, "Because it amplifies the tower's own energy to allow it to create a portal. You align these dials here on the top, to get the best flow of power. When properly aligned, the Welkynd Stone will amplify the Oblivion energies within the tower to open a portal. While the portal is open, the Welkynd Stone acts as an anchor to keep it stable."

Fynix shifted in his seat and rubbed his chin, "Now aren't there any conjuration spells that lead to Aetherius? Because if there are, we could use the tower to amplify it and…

Talliea shook her head, "There are no spells directly to Aetherius, Fynix." She pulled another book out of the pile, _Magic from the Sky_, and opened it to the first page, "You see here? Starlight is the means to Aetherius. We'll need to perform this ritual at night in starlight. That's how we get in."

Fynix rolled his eyes, "Just what we need: more complications." He shrugged, "You're the expert. So how long do you think it will take to enchant each piece of ebony before the dials are ready?"

Talliea's eyes darted to the ceiling as she thought, "Enchanting one at a time with a sturdy saturation…I'd say an hour each for seven hours total."

Fynix frowned, "Not enough time for Arken and the others to return with the wood." He looked back at the little pile of ebony stones Talliea was enchanting, "You'd best get back at it. The sooner we get this done, the sooner this little scheme comes to fruition."

Talliea nodded in return, "I'll see what I can do to speed up the process." Fynix watched her walk back to the stones before standing up to go check on his calcinator. He'd started refining the pure glow dust from the center of the deposit several hours ago and it was coming along nicely. He raised the lid on the calcinator slightly and was rewarded with a thin wisp of bitter smelling steam eking through the gap. As Fynix made a few adjustments, his mind wandered back to Talliea's behavior earlier. She seemed overly apologetic, as though she was trying to keep the air clean between the two of them. Fynix smiled at remembering how she knelt down next to his chair. She did that when they were studying at the guild hall in Sadrith Mora. He snickered to himself when he recalled a warm memory of one time she played a joke on him from next to his chair. Fynix chuckled out loud, fondly recalling the childish playfulness they exhibited back then.

"What's so funny?" Fynix was recalled from his reverie by Talliea's questioning tone and quizzical look.

He turned to look back at her and shook his head, "Oh…" He wanted to say "nothing", but something within told him she needed to hear the details.

"Just remembering some of the fun times we had in the guild hall back home. You remember those?"

Talliea smiled beautifully, "Like the time you hid all my books on the chandelier?"

Fynix nodded, "And the time you cast a burden on me in my chair?"

Talliea giggled and went back to what she was doing, "Yes, I remember. Those times were fun." She paused and thought briefly, "They were stupid, but still fun."

Fynix chuckled in agreement as he stoked the flame under the calcinator. He was starting to see from how Talliea was acting around him something that he had been hoping for. She may be trying to rekindle their relationship. Fynix inwardly rejoiced at the thought, but calmed himself when remembering that he needed to be cautious. Relighting an old flame could be tricky, if not risky, at best. He looked back at her, taking in her beauty for a moment while she worked. Fynix breathed a quiet sigh and returned his attention to the task at hand, hoping in his heart that Arken wouldn't be the only one who got back what he once lost.


	14. Chapter XIV

14

Arken brought the axe down on the tree again and again until the piece finally came off. He tossed the chunk in with a small pile and sat down to catch his breath. He'd been chopping this tree into four foot lengths for the last couple of hours, and the oak's resilience was getting to him. Baurus was chopping more wood elsewhere in the forest, and Merrenda gathering the piles into one at their campsite. Arken peeled off his shirt and looked at the sun as it came directly overhead for noon. He wiped the sweat from his brow as a brisk breeze picked up and closed his eyes as the air cooled him down.

Arken's eyes popped open again. There was a familiar smell in the breeze. He remembered it well from all the times diving headlong into Oblivion gates. It was a sweet ashen smell, like the scent of burning flesh. He smelled it every time he was near a Dremora. He tossed his axe aside and reached for his sword.

As Arken's hand touched the handle, something leaped over the fallen tree behind him and took him to the ground. Arken found himself face down in the grass with his unknown assailant grasping his back. Arken rolled around and clobbered his attacker with his elbow. He regretted doing so, because his elbow connected with a hard knobby bone on the attacker's head, which hurt when struck. Arken looked up to be staring into the beady yellow eyes of an adult clanfear. Arken jerked his head aside as the clanfear snapped its jaws forward, narrowly avoiding getting his head bitten off and giving the lizard a mouthful of dirt. It spat the dirt out and snarled at him angrily. Using the momentary distraction, Arken punched the clanfear in the ear, which was nothing more than a shallow tympanum. The clanfear shrieked as it rolled off of Arken and grabbed its head to stop the pain, while Arken made a dash for his sword.

He grabbed the handle and pulled it half way out of the scabbard when the clanfear tackled him again. They rolled a few feet across the grass until Arken wound up on his back with his hands around the daedric lizard's neck as it snapped at him, its jaws just out of reach. It clawed the ground next to Arken as it tried to get a bite. While he kept the upper half distracted, Arken looked down toward his feet to try something that might work. He grabbed the clanfear's wildly thrashing tail with his feet and twisted, using a technique he'd learned while in the Morag Tong that was supposed to allow him to break a man's neck with his feet. He felt a chorus of pops through his feet as he dislocated several of the vertebrae in the tail. The clanfear reared back with the pain, giving Arken the opportunity he needed. He tucked his knees up into his chest and donkey-kicked the clanfear in the chest, throwing it several feet back. Arken shoulder-hopped to his feet and turned the tables by tackling the clanfear. He pounced on the daedra's back and pinned it to the ground. It thrashed and struggled wildly under his weight. Arken worked one hand around the clanfear's beaked snout and the other at the back of the neck frill. He leaned up and cranked the daedra's head around, rewarded with a loud crack. The clanfear stiffened, then went limp. Arken climbed off the daedra's body and checked himself over, surprised that he'd gotten through that without a mark to show for it.

Hearing another clanfear shriek in the distance brought Arken's attention back to the threat at hand. He jumped to his feet, snatching his sword on the way up, and took off toward at full sprint to where Baurus last was. He dodged under branches, around trees, and over bushes, trying to make the best time he could. He came through the brush to find Baurus hacking away at a tree like nothing was wrong, his katana staked into the ground next to him. Arken coming through the bushes had him turned around and reaching for the blade until he realized who it was.

He set his axe down and brushed his hands together, "Arken, you startled…"

"Quiet!" Arken held up one hand to silence Baurus as he listened to the woods around him. He looked at Baurus and motioned out to the forest, "You hear anything?"

Baurus looked around and shrugged, "Hear what? It sounds normal."

"Well, I was just attacked by a clanfear, so something's out there. Have you seen Merrenda?"

Baurus shook his head, "Last I knew, she was bringing some wood to the campsite."

"Great. Let's move. We have to…" Arken's eyes bugged when he saw what was behind Baurus, "Look out!"

Without a second thought, Baurus snatched his katana and swung it with both hands as he turned, raking the edge of the blade across the clanfear that was soaring through the air at him. The daedra continued through the air until it hit the ground, where it rolled to a stop at Arken's feet. The Dunmer drew his sword and stabbed it in the back of the neck to make sure it was dead.

Baurus ran a cloth down his blade to clean the blood off, "Okay. You've convinced me."

The two ran through the woods to the campsite as fast as they could. Arken slowly pulled ahead of Baurus because he was accustomed to moving over this kind of terrain. He broke through the brush to the campsite to find Merrenda sitting on a log cleaning her sword, the bodies of two clanfears at her feet. Baurus broke through the brush behind Arken and his jaw nearly hit the ground.

He pointed at the two bodies on the ground, "You killed two on your own?"

Arken looked back at him, "I told you she can handle a blade well enough."

Merrenda smiled sheepishly, "Actually, they were fighting over whose dinner I'd be. I killed the winner."

"I don't care if they danced a waltz for you, as long as you're safe." Arken was about to sheath his sword when he heard something in the woods behind him. It was the airy voices of several Dremora and the distinctive sound of a blade being drawn. Arken knew full well what was to follow. He dropped to his knees as he spun around and swung for the Dremora's leg, catching him in side of his knee. The blade sank into the flesh until it hit bone, causing the Dremora to howl in pain. Pressing the attack from a disadvantaged position, Arken snapped his leg out to kick the Dremora's good knee, snapping it straight and sending him to the ground. Arken stood to his feet and used the Dremora's chest as a step to jump toward another. He spun as he flew through the air and swung his leg out, landing a strong roundhouse to the side of the Dremora's head as he drew his weapon. Arken landed and continued his spin in a power slash that knocked the Dremora's weapon out of his hand. He quickly produced a smaller blade, but not before Arken aimed precise tip slash to the Dremora's neck. He spun through the air and landed face down. Arken looked back at the others. Baurus was finishing off another Dremora and Merrenda was holding her own against two more.

Arken turned as he heard a battle cry from behind him. A Dremora was sounding its attack with a gritty shout as he charged Arken with a large claymore blade. Arken took his fighting stance and steeled himself. The Dremora closed the gap and swung hard side arm. Arken ducked under the blade as it passed over his head, nicking the tips of his hair as he went down. He pushed back up under the Dremora, using the daedra's momentum to throw him over his shoulder. The Dremora flew over Arken and rolled to his feet, proving more agile than average. He took a stance with his long blade held high and pointed up. He swung at Arken again, attacking overhand this time. Arken sidestepped the swing and retaliated with a strike of his own. His blade landed squarely on the Dremora's shoulder, not causing full damage due to his armor. Once again pulling a wild card, the Dremora rotated and landed its elbow squarely across Arken's sternum, forcing him back.

Arken took a step back and shook his head. This Dremora was a Markynaz, one of the highest ranks for Dremora, a rank earned by skill and blood. From where the claymore was, the daedra heaved it upward toward Arken. He dodged away from the strike, but not before getting some of the business end of the blade. The claymore's tip slashed shallowly across Arken's bare chest, leaving a bleeding red line starting low on his left pectoral and crawling up toward his shoulder. Arken quickly assessed the wound and returned his attention the Markynaz, gritting his teeth to ignore the pain. The Dremora smiled at seeing that he'd drawn blood and went on the attack to draw more. He struck sidearm, swinging low to bisect Arken. Arken second-guessed him and dodged back away from the blade. The Dremora used the blade's momentum to spin and come around and down in another overhand strike that Arken sidestepped at the last moment. When the blade hit the ground, Arken stepped on the tip and climbed up the Dremora's hands onto his shoulders before somersaulting forward, simultaneously kicking the Dremora hard in the back of the head. The Dremora reeled forward as Arken landed in a crouch and pressed the attack. The Markynaz turned to face him as Arken advanced quickly. He played his blade up one of the Dremora's shoulders between armor plates before the daedra brought the claymore around to stop him. Arken's blade struck the weapon and he spun in the opposite direction. He slashed the Dremora across the neck, and dropped to his knees as he ran the blade up to the hilt in the daedra's gut. A stunned look crossed the Dremora's face as he coughed up a wad of blood before sinking to his knees and falling back off the blade. Arken stayed on his knees for a long moment, catching his breath. He heard no commotion from behind him, meaning the fight was over. He slowly stood up and looked over his chest. The wound wasn't very deep and didn't get anything vital, but it was still bleeding.

"Arken, you're hurt!" Merrenda ran up to him and dropped her sword in the grass. She tore a sleeve off her shirt and pressed it against the cut to soak up the blood.

Arken worked his arm around to make sure it didn't seize up on him, "It's just a flesh wound, love. I just need to clean it up."

She refolded the cloth to clean up some more blood and looked over at Baurus, "Baurus, do you have any healing potions with you?"

Arken put his hand on her cheek and turned her head to meet his gaze, "Merrenda, I'll be fine." Merrenda cleaned Arken's wound while Baurus checked on the horses. Merrenda finished tying a bandage around Arken's chest and cinched the knot, causing him to grunt.

Arken checked the knot and looked at Merrenda, "Still glad you came along?"

She looked at him and smiled, "Someone has to keep you in one piece, love. I am glad I came."

Arken scooted closer to Merrenda and wrapped his arms around her, "So am I." The rest of the day was uneventful, but that didn't stop Baurus and Arken from taking shifts on watch. As Arken sat on a log near the campsite, he idly thought to himself. Sending daedra to do their dirty work was not normal for the Mythic Dawn. One motive for doing so was that they had poked a nerve. The other motive was the one Arken didn't like. It was more likely that the Mythic Dawn were close to completing their plan, whatever it was. Last time they had something up those long red sleeves of theirs, it reduced an entire city and a district of the Imperial city to ruins and cost the lives of many good soldiers. Arken could only hope that whatever they were concocting this time wasn't quite as dangerous. As he stood up when Baurus took over, he couldn't help but feel he was hoping in vain. He dismissed the thoughts for now and went back to chopping wood.

------------

Whilem held his closed hands over the device and with his eyes closed. He opened his hands and sprinkled the glow dust down over the apparatus he'd spent the last two weeks assembling. As the dust settled on the device, a small portal opened at his hands and sucked it all up. As the glow dust left the device, it pulled with it the Oblivion energies he'd spent so long trying to enchant the device with. The portal closed with a yellow flash and Whilem threw his hands down in frustration. That was the fifth time he'd tried the procedure and the fifth time he'd been unsuccessful. He was starting to wonder if this type of magic was possible anymore considering how old it was.

"Try again." The red-robed man's voice came from behind him.

Whilem turned to face him, "I've already tried several times." He walked over to the table and picked up a book, "I'll go over the ritual one more time to see if I'm doing anything wrong."

The employer folded his arms, "You had best make it work soon. Or else you'll be the one to use it on."

Whilem looked up from the book to the man, "What do mean?"

The leader's head fell back in frustration, "I mean that I'll kill you for your failure. Then I can bring you back with this device."

Whilem closed the book, "Bring me back? What do you think I am? I'm a conjurer, not a necromancer."

The man took several steps toward him, "This device, it's capable of bringing someone back to life, isn't it?"

Whilem shook his head, "What gave you that idea? This device is for portal transit. It's designed for quick transport over long distances."

"But I thought…" he trailed off as he took in what the mage had just said, "Then what would the Blades need this device for, unless…" He looked at Whilem, "This changes nothing." A smile crossed his face in the shadows of his hood, "In fact, this may be just what we needed. Get it working, or you'll pay dearly." He turned and left the room. Whilem turned around and held his hands over the portal tower again.

"Good job blowing my secret."

Whilem turned around startled to find Krayven standing behind him where an empty room had been before. He collected his wits and took a deep breath to calm down.

"You knew?"

Krayven nodded toward the apparatus, "About the true nature of the portal tower? Yes. Was I trying to keep that knowledge from my employer? Yes."

Whilem shrugged, "I'm sorry. What was I supposed to do? Lie to him?"

Krayven nodded casually, "Yeah."

"Well, that sort of behavior may come easily for the likes of you, but I prefer to stay on the white side of morality." Whilem turned around to be surprised by Krayven standing in front of him again.

"Why, when the black side is so much more fulfilling." Krayven gave him a sinister, predatory smile before all joviality drained from his face, "Now get this straight: You _will_ delay this process as long as you can, or I'll turn your skull into an ale mug." He leaned in close to the mage's face, "Understand me?"

Whilem nodded quickly, too scared to speak at the moment. Krayven nodded curtly in return and brushed past him to leave the room. Whilem staggered over to lean against the wall as his heart started beating again. He shook his head, resigning himself to simply seeing this through to the end and hoping to get out of it alive.


	15. Chapter XV

15

Fynix hefted the last of the ebony brackets into the Great Hall where he would assemble the portal tower. Talliea was still enchanting the dials, and wouldn't be done for some time. She had found a way to enchant the dials with a stronger permeation of Oblivion energies, however it doubled the amount of time needed to enchant each piece. Fynix was in no hurry since the rest of his building materials hadn't arrived yet. He was expecting Arken, Merrenda, and Baurus within a few days. When they showed up with the wood, then he could begin constructing the tower.

Fynix walked back into the library to find Talliea in a position he recognized. She was leaning over the table, doing her best not to fall asleep and failing at it. She hadn't slept since she'd arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple six days ago and she didn't have the same kind of resilience that Fynix and Arken had earned through hardship and combat. Not to mentioned that she was wearing herself out with powerful spells. Fynix walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She looked back at him and smiled wearily, trying to hide the fact that she was exhausted.

Fynix shook his head, "Take a break, Talli. Get some rest. I need you to be alert."

Talliea shook her head, "No, I'm fine. I was taking a breather. I'll get back at…"

She was interrupted by Fynix pulling the dial she was working on away from her, "Talli, I need you awake and alert for this, not falling asleep at the controls. Come with me. The barracks are this way." He took her hand and put his arm around her shoulders as he led her out of the library and into the hall. She leaned on him as they walked, finally giving in to the fatigue. Fynix led Talliea into the barracks and helped her lie down on one of the bedrolls, making sure she didn't fall down. Fynix stayed on his knees next to her as Talliea looked up at him.

"Stay with me. Please? Until I fall asleep."

Fynix took her hand in his, "All right."

Talliea took a deep and weary breath, "Nix, you remember our lives back in Morrowind? The fun times we enjoyed together, and the hard times?"

Fynix smiled and nodded, "I couldn't forget if I wanted to. But then why would I want to?"

She smiled briefly before she sighed and her smile faded, "Fynix, I'm sorry. I broke our relationship apart. I should have been more open to you. I shouldn't have kept so much in. I drove you away, and I'm sorry."

Fynix nodded and his eyes went misty, "I think we could easily both blame ourselves for why we fell apart, Talli. But we can't learn from the past while we're living in it. We learn a lesson, we move on, we do it better next time. That's what a thief friend of mine taught me about living life without regret."

Talliea smiled as she looked up at Fynix, "You think there could be a next time for us, Nix?"

Fynix smiled and shrugged, "There could be. You never know…" He cut himself off when he saw she'd fallen asleep. Fynix smiled and brushed some locks of hair away from her face.

"I hope so, Talli. I hope so".

He carefully slipped his hand from her grasp and quietly stood to leave the room. He stopped briefly in the door and looked back at her. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, so serene lying there. Fynix wrested his gaze from her and forced himself to return his attention to the task at hand. He left the barracks and went into the Great Hall. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to do until the wood arrived, so Fynix felt a little useless for the time being. He walked through the front doors into the brisk mountain air, wandering in no direction in particular. Evening was passing and dusk was beginning to roost on the Jerrall Mountains, filling the western sky with a symphony of color as the sun began to set. Fynix looked at the cacophony of oranges, pinks, blues, and yellows and sighed to himself, wishing Talliea was awake to see it. He remembered well how much she loved sunsets, especially in their native Morrowind. He wandered up the wall and stopped between the watch posts, looking out over the spectacular view of Cyrodill. He saw White Gold Tower in the Imperial City in the distance, reminding him of their ultimate goal. Hopefully soon, Martin Septim would rule Tamriel from that tower. Fynix or anyone else who spent any time around Martin didn't need a genealogy to prove his lineage. He was Dragonborn through and through. He was a natural leader, possessing the wisdom and valor needed in a good ruler. He would have made an outstanding Emperor, hence one of the reasons Fynix was doing this at all. If he thought Martin couldn't lead, he would get him out of Aetherius simply on the grounds of him being a friend. But Fynix knew otherwise about Martin's leadership skills, and was determined to bring him back to Tamriel.

As he took in the view of the province, Fynix noticed a trio of horses riding past Bruma. One horse looked like it was loaded with something. Fynix nodded subtly to himself as Arken, Merrenda, and Baurus returned from their timber expedition. He leaned over to Cyrus and pointed in their direction, bringing them to his attention. Cyrus nodded silently and turned to go inform Capt. Steffan and Jauffre. Over the next several minutes, Fynix watched them approach the fortress, keeping an eye out for that overly-nosy spy. As they approached the door, Fynix recognized them without a doubt and turned to wave down at Roliand and Achille. The two Blades pushed the doors open to allow them in. As the group entered the temple, Fynix saw that Merrenda was doubled up with Arken, and Jerrall was up to his ears in wood. As soon as they stopped at the stables, they all dismounted and started unburdening the poor horse.

Fynix cast a potent feather spell on the wood to ease unloading before speaking to Arken, "So, how was your trip?"

Arken shrugged, "Well, we chopped wood, ate, slept, chopped wood, ate, slept, chopped more wood, ate, slept, chopped wood, got attacked by angry daedra, ate, slept. And did I mention that we chopped wood?"

Fynix nodded, "I catch your drift. What about that 'attacked by angry daedra' part?"

"A few clanfears and a group of Dremora tried to get the drop on us. We took care of them, but not without a few parting gifts." He pulled his shirt collar down to expose a scar forming on his chest.

Fynix pointed at the mark, "You know, I could cook up a potion that'll make that all but disappear."

Arken smiled, "You know me. I like them. Souvenirs from previous battles."

"Yes, but if you continue on the rate you're going, you're not going to have any skin left before you hit your first century."

Arken nodded and smirked mischievously, "Yes, but battle scars make me look so much more dashing. Don't you think?"

Fynix rolled his eyes and looked around Arken's shoulder, "Merrenda, how do you put up with this?"

The Dunmer woman shrugged, "Just ignore him. That's what I do."

Arken's head whipped around, "Hey!" Merrenda returned him a smile and a wink.

Arken motioned to the wood that, so far, just Baurus was unloading, "Half a cord of fresh pure oak wood. We cut it in long pieces so you'll have something to work with."

Fynix checked the length on one of the pieces and nodded approvingly, "This will be fine. So, do you assume these daedra to be friends of our red-robed adversaries?"

Arken scoffed, "Without a doubt, and it raises some disturbing thoughts. I'm thinking that whatever their devious minds are concocting, they're close to completing it."

Fynix scratched the back of his neck, "Which doesn't bode well for us, and means I really need to kick on and get this contraption working. We have everything we need, and Talliea's resting right now, but she was close to finishing enchanting the dials. It's just a matter of basic assembly and then waiting until nightfall."

The last comment brought Arken's head up, "Any particular reason for nightfall?"

"You know, I enjoy a good conversation as much as the next guy," Baurus called everybody's attention over, "but I'm really displeased with the idea of carrying all this wood myself."

Fynix held up one finger, "Tell you in a moment. I need to help Baurus." Fynix extended his hand toward the wood and a light purple flare pulsed out from his fingers. The entire wood pile was encompassed in a white glow and lifted from Jerrall's back. Fynix followed the wood as he levitated it through the doors and into the Great Hall where he set it down.

Arken followed him in and set his gear down on one of the tables, "Now that would have been convenient while we were bag-dragging the stuff all over Tamriel."

Fynix shrugged, "I lent you my horse. What more do you want? Anyway, starlight is the direct path to Aetherius. All questions point to the same answer in that if we're going to get to Aetherius, we'll need starlight to get there."

Arken nodded, slowly comprehending all Fynix had just said, "So do you think it'll be ready by tonight?"

Fynix chuckled, "Hardly. I have to study the schematics for at least another hour before I even begin putting this thing together. But I do know I can have it ready by tomorrow night."

Arken nodded again, "The sooner the better. I don't plan on waiting for the Mythic Dawn to hatch their plan and foul everything up."

------------

Whilem looked at the portal tower, finally completed. He'd spent the better part of three weeks constructing the thing, almost a week of that spent trying to enchant it with the Oblivion energies. Krayven watched from across the room as Whilem aligned the dials in a specific orientation. He wouldn't be making a portal go very far, just to the other side of the room. He aligned the dials and held his hand over the tower, casting a basic lightning spell to give it a starting charge to work with. The lightning surged over the surface of the tower and the Welkynd stone began to glow brightly. There was a near blinding yellow flash that heralded a portal opening behind the device. It wasn't very big, just a little larger than your average door frame, and surging with various colors. Whilem looked around it and saw the adjacent portal had opened on the other side of the room, allowing for near instantaneous transit between the two points.

Krayven nodded as he observed, "A lightning spell?"

Whilem nodded, "Yes, or something of the like. It needs a starter charge. After that, it'll take over under its own power."

Krayven stood up from leaning against the wall and walked over to the tower, "And what are the dials for?"

"Well, the quick and easy explanation is to align them with the latitude and longitude of the destination. This outer dial is the approximate distance. You need to know where you're going so the tower can get you there. I carved some numbers into them so I can understand it better."

Krayven nodded again, "So once the dials are aligned, they don't need to be moved."

Whilem shrugged, "Well, once the portal is opened, they don't need to be moved. To open a new portal, they have to be realigned properly."

Krayven raised his eyebrows, "All told a fairly simple device."

The mage nodded, "Yes. Quite simple once you know how to work it."

Krayven smiled subtly, "And now that I know how…" He jammed his Elven dagger into Whilem's back, "I don't need you anymore."

A stunned look crossed Whilem's face as he felt the blade sink into his flesh. Krayven twisted the dagger once before pulling it out and letting his handiwork spill forth. He'd cleanly a major artery, then opened the gash to compound the damage. The mage's blue robes quickly turned purple as his blood quickly left his body.

Whilem staggered back against the wall and looked at Krayven, "Liar. You lied to me."

Krayven shrugged nonchalantly, "You said yourself you didn't trust me. Trust is a powerful weapon in the right hands." Krayven knelt down in front of Whilem as he slouched to the floor, "Your trust in my hands was the worst mistake you ever made. But cheer up. Now you won't have a chance to make that mistake again."

Whilem reached up and weakly grasped Krayven's arm as his blood pooled in the dirt around him, "May the Nine avenge me." With his final breath gone, Whilem DeAfrauns slumped to the floor.

Krayven scoffed as he brushed the dead mage's hand from his arm, "I don't think I have much to worry about from them." He stood as the red-robed man entered the room and stopped when he saw Whilem's body.

He pointed at the dead mage, "What happened here?"

Krayven looked at Whilem briefly, "He tried to escape and got violent. I had to put him down."

The employer looked around Krayven, "At least it appears that he got this working." He walked up to the portal tower as the portal closed, "Perhaps we did need him to use this device for us."

Krayven walked up next to him, "I've been reading up his books. It's difficult, but able to be done." He held his hand over the tower and zapped it with a weak lightning spell. With a blinding flash, the portal opened again.

A devious smile could be seen in the shadows of the red-robed man's hood, "Excellent. Now we need only wait."

Krayven needed to keep up his ruse, so he pretended once again to be impatient, "Why wait? Strike now and we can take them by surprise."

The man shook his head, "The patient hunter gets the prey, Krayven. An assassin should know that better than anyone. We need only now to wait until our prey is in the right spot before we pounce."


	16. Chapter XVI

16

Arken watched as Fynix put the finishing touches on the portal tower. It wasn't a tall device, only about the height of a man, standing on three legs with the Welkynd Stone hanging from the center and the Ayleid crystal set on top. Fynix was in the process of sprinkling the refined glow dust all on and around it while Talliea maintained a small portal that continued striking the tower with small bolts of white lightning. Fynix said something about the glow dust being a natural power enhancer and focusing agent for light. When the starlight struck the tower, the glow dust would amplify it. Arken looked up to see a couple of Blades hard at work removing some ceiling tiles to allow the starlight to shine in on the tower. It was definite by now that Cloud Ruler Temple was going to need a makeover when this was through.

Fynix finished spreading the last of the glow dust and took a step back. The portal at Talliea's fingertips suddenly began to swirl wildly and glowed a bright bluish green color. The light intensified and spread over the tower itself until it engulfed the whole thing. After a brief moment, there was a bright flash that Arken shielded his eyes from. When he lowered his arm, he was taken aback by what he saw. Before, the portal tower looked fairly normal. The wood was easily distinguishable from the ebony brackets that held it in place and from the six hook-shaped pieces of glass the curved upward toward the apex. Now, after what Talliea had done to it, everything was different. All the parts seemed to have been melded together, one with another. The ebony seemed laced throughout the structure of the wood with little glints of glass and glow dust sparkling across the surface. The only things that seemed unaffected by the transformation were the Welkynd Stone and the dials at the top. Arken didn't know much about magic save for a basic healing spell that he barely had a grasp on, and he made no attempt to understand what made this magic spin.

Talliea lowered her hands and took a deep breath, "It's done." She stepped forward and started aligning the dials, "Now I need to configure the tower's spatial orientation before we try to open any gates."

Arken raised his eyebrows, "You need to configure what?"

Fynix leaned around the tower, "She needs to tell the tower where it is. A portal could backfire and cause some serious damage if she doesn't."

Arken rolled his eyes, "You mages and your polysyllabic words."

Talliea made some minor adjustments to the dials and held her hand out over the top of the tower. A purple light flashed from her palm and small motes of purple light spiraled down the tower's height. The Welkynd Stone in the middle flared brightly for a moment before returning to normal.

Talliea smiled, "All set." She looked up at the growing hole in the ceiling, "Now all we need is a clear night sky."

Fynix shrugged, "Well, it's already past noon without a cloud in the sky, so hopefully we'll be good to go tonight."

Arken nodded his head and silently slipped out of the room and into the library. He found Merrenda sitting in a chair in the corner, a sullen look on her face. Arken knew by the lack of her customary smile and the way she had her arms crossed that something was wrong. He walked over and leaned against the wall next to her, but his presence was not rewarded with a comment or even a look. Something was stewing in her mind, something Arken didn't like the look of.

"Fynix and Talliea have finished the portal tower. We should be ready to go by tonight."

Merrenda tightened her arms and looked away from him, "So you and Fynix will be going then."

Arken crouched down next to her chair, "What's wrong, beloved?"

She shrugged, "Nothing."

Arken frowned, "I recognize that tone, and I don't like it. It always means something is bothering you. Why don't you just tell me? What's wrong?"

Merrenda finally graced him with her gaze, revealing fearful and worried eyes, "It's all the same, Ark. You're going to be diving head first into danger again, and you're going to leave me behind."

Arken nodded his head, "You're right. I'd sooner do a flamenco with an angry Dremora Valkynaz than let you come along this time. I'd feel better if you stayed here."

Merrenda put a hand on his shoulder, "But I don't feel better when I stay here. Arken, every time you go off doing something stupid, I'm always afraid you'll come back badly wounded, or worse." She caressed his cheek with her fingertips, "You weren't the only one who lost someone when you were arrested, love. The Legion took you from me once, and I don't want to think about anything else taking you from me again."

Arken took her hand and looked into her eyes, "The Legion took me from you, but I came looking for you and found you again. You're one of the only good things to ever happen to me, Merrenda. I'm not going to give you up, not while I still draw breath." He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, "I will come back for you, beloved. I promise."

A tear fell from Merrenda's eye as she smiled in return, "You always have been a man of your word."

Arken smiled at her before kissing her on the cheek and standing to check his gear. He had to make sure he had everything he would be bringing into Aetherius, because once they were there, resupplying could become a problem. Arken made sure he had a full quiver of three hundred arrows, two hundred Elven and one hundred silver. His bow and sword were in good condition, and except for some minor repair to one of his gauntlets, his armor was fine. Arken laid it all out on a table for later and tossed his bedroll out on the floor to get some rest. He wanted to be in top condition when they entered Aetherius. Merrenda laid down with him, enjoying some last moments with her husband before he left. Arken held her in his arms, her comforting warmth bringing him a peace he never thought he could feel again. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind began wandering of things they might see. Aetherius wasn't like any other daedric realm, so there would be different things there. Arken didn't expect danger, but was bringing his weapons just in case. He finally succumbed to sleep, which was mercifully undisturbed.

------------

Arken checked and double checked the straps and belts of his armor and weapons. Talliea was aligning the dials on the portal tower as Fynix came out of the library fixing the clasp on his cloak. He'd personally enchanted a pair of cloaks just for this occasion. They could wear them over their armor and included a number of potent feather, fortify, and resist spells. Talliea looked up through the hole in the roof to see if enough star light was coming through before casting a weak lightning spell over the tower, starting the portal process. Fynix came up next to Arken and pulled his hood up over his head.

Arken took a deep breath and looked at Fynix, "Are we going to do this?"

Fynix looked at Arken and nodded his head, "We're going to do this."

"Then let's do this big." The two friends bumped their right forearms against one another, a "ceremonial" gesture they did before something like this. The stars directly above Cloud Ruler Temple flared extraordinarily brightly as the gate opened with a flash. The blue-white portal looked inviting enough, but Talliea continued to study it for a moment before determining that it was stable and nodding back to Arken and Fynix. Arken took a long look back at Merrenda and mouthed the words "I love you" to her. In spite of the smile on her face, the concern in her eyes was enough to make Arken want to stay. They might be in Aetherius for a while, days maybe. He knew what he had to do, though, that infernal good man in him winning another round. He looked forward and both he and Fynix started walking toward the gate. They stopped before it and Fynix touched the edges with his fingertips. Arken rolled his eyes as the mage stared at the gate in awe.

"Study it later, Nix. We have to go." He pushed Fynix through the gate. He took one last wistful look back at Merrenda and turned to step through the gate. He passed through the blue-white portal and emerged in an open field of tall grass. Arken drew his bow and readied an arrow as he scanned the horizon. Fynix was standing there looking over the planes before them. To the west, acres of tall amber grass shimmering with golden waves in the gentle breeze. To the east, a mile or two before a cliff abruptly dropped off to a beach that bled into a perfectly serene sea. In front of them, to the north, some hills loomed off in the distance with some thin woods surrounding them.

Fynix looked out across the horizon, "So this is Aetherius." He looked around, and then back at Arken, "It's just like Tamriel, only without any flaws whatsoever."

Arken stowed his bow as he walked up next to Fynix, looking around at this new world. They definitely were somewhere other than Tamriel. They left during the night, but here it was afternoon. The clouds were high up in the clear blue sky, showing no signs of bad weather anywhere on the horizon. Deer could be seen bounding in the fields further to the west while birds crossed the winds with effortless ease. This world seemed perfect, an exact description of a dwelling place of gods.

"Do we have any idea of even where to start searching for Martin?"

Fynix's gaze panned the landscape for a moment before he pointed at something, "I'd start there first." He pointed to a white structure on the horizon, at least two days journey on foot, "If nothing else, it could lead us to where we need to go."

Arken shrugged, "Long hike. We'd better get started." Arken took a couple of steps before looking back at the gate they just came through, "You think that thing will be here when we get back?"

Fynix looked back at it and shrugged, "That's in Talliea's hands now. She'll keep it open as long as she can."

The pair set out through the fields toward the building. Along the way, Fynix would occasionally stop and take a sample of the local flora, comparing it to the plant life of Tamriel and proposing possible alchemical uses for it. He was rattling on and on about a leaf specimen he picked up and was particularly fascinated with. Arken could only shake his head and endure listening to him. Fynix had originally picked up alchemy as a trade to support himself, but eventually grew to enjoy the art as a pastime.

Fynix continued to gesture to different parts of the leaf as they walked, "…And the interesting part about that is, even though it is similar in _appearance_ to your average oak leaf, this specimen has an unusually large vascular structure throughout the body. That leads me to think that more than just sap runs through the vein system. Perhaps something more than sap, some kind of poison maybe…"

Arken nodded his head, "Tree."

Fynix continued, "I somehow doubt it's poison, because that's usually kept in small pouches or sacks within the leaf's body. Then again, we are dealing with flora from a plane other than Tamriel, so there will very likely be distinct differences."

Arken nodded again, "Tree."

"Then what could this extra vein system be for then? I could be all wet and it just has large vein clusters in all the leaves. I would need to study the tree itself to be certain. As far as an educated guess, it looks simply like an enlarged vein structure for carrying nutrients throughout the leaf's body."

Arken sounded more agitated, "Tree."

Fynix pocketed the leaf sample and looked at Arken, "Why do you keep saying 'tree' anyway?" As if on cue, Fynix looked forward just in time to be whacked across the face by the low hanging branch of a tree he didn't notice while talking.

Arken shook his head as he kept walking, "I warned you three times. You still hit it. What am I going to do with you?"

Fynix scrambled around the branch and brushed himself off, "Now I get it. 'Tree'." He caught up to Arken and fell into step with him again.

"You ever think we'll end up here permanently one day?"

Arken looked over at his friend, "What kind of question is that?"

Fynix shrugged, "Well, it's said that those who serve the Nine in duty and respect will have a place in Aetherius. I show my respects to the Nine, but I haven't really _served_ them. It makes me wonder if I may end up here one day. But then I do still have four centuries ahead of me."

Arken stopped in his tracks and stared at him. Fynix stopped and looked back at him.

"We have a dimensional barrier between us and home in a plane that we may be in for Oblivion knows how long looking for Martin, and you pick _now_ to reevaluate your life?"

Fynix shrugged as they started walking again, "I'm not reevaluating. It's just idle thought. Something to chew on. You get the idea."

Arken shook his head, "Well, I for one don't really care if I wind up here when my centuries are up."

Fynix looked at his friend for a long moment as they walked, "What is it you don't like about the Nine, anyway?"

Arken shrugged, "I never said I didn't like them."

Fynix snickered, "I've seen you in a chapel a grand total of one time in the years we've known each other. And I think you were picking someone's pocket at the time, too."

Arken shook his head, "No, I was casing him to learn his schedule so I could rob his store. I wasn't pickpocketing him."

Fynix scoffed, "Oh. That makes all the difference."

Arken was about to make another comment, but froze in his tracks and looked around. Fynix had learned to recognize when Arken's finely honed sense of awareness had detected something wrong.

Arken's eyes darted across the field, "Something's not right here. The wind stopped."

Fynix cast his life detection spell and looked around, "I don't see anything."

"That doesn't change the fact that something is wrong." As they looked around, a thick grey fog settled around them that obscured everything outside of ten feet. Arken pulled his bow and readied an arrow while Fynix drew his sword. As they looked around, nine ghostly figures appeared out of the fog surrounding them. Arken drew back the arrow and took aim on one of the ghosts. Each one looked like a man save for the ghostly aura that surrounded them. They were all adorned in some kind of armor with a red diamond-shaped mark in the center of the chest, and some bore a long diamond-shaped shield. Arken and Fynix kept their backs to one another to face all nine threats.

The lead ghost took a step forward, "This is the domain of the Nine. You cannot pass."

Fynix tried to speak up, "Actually, we were only…"

"Silence!" The ghost held his hand up, "Intruders will not be tolerated. Prepare to die." The ghosts all drew swords and started to advance. Arken released his arrow at his target and was very displeased to see it fly right through. He pulled out a silver arrow and drew it back, letting it fly to its mark. It hit the ghost squarely in the shoulder. He fell backward and vanished in a grey cloud, the arrow falling to the ground. Arken took aim on another ghost, but only hit his shield when he fired. He stowed his bow and drew his sword and daedric dagger. The ghost swung his blade at him and Arken moved to parry. He was relieved to see that his blade blocked the spectral weapon, but knew that it would do no damage to the ghost himself. That was what the daedric dagger was for. Arken cranked the blades around and spun, swinging the dagger around backhand. The blade sunk into the ghost's side as though he were flesh and bone like Arken himself. The specter doubled over from the hit and vanished in a cloud.

Arken looked back at Fynix to see if he needed help and was satisfied to see that the mage was holding his own. Fynix brought his sword up to block a high strike and swung his staff low to strike the ghost in the abdomen, causing him to double over and fall back. He turned around and crossed his blade over the staff to block and catch a sidearm strike from another ghost. He cranked the spectral weapon around and out of its wielder's hand, then pointed his staff at the ghost's chest, unleashing a bolt with no more than two inches between the staff and the ghost. Lightning played over the specter's form as it flew backward into the fog.

Arken returned his attention to his fight when he turned his head to see another ghost charging him. As he closed the distance, Arken dropped to one knee and swung his blade at chest height, aiming for the knees. The ghost stopped suddenly, catching his blade on his shield, rotated around past the blade, and came at Arken from above. The Dunmer dropped to his back as the blade passed over him and shoulder-hopped to his feet. He swung sidearm at the ghost and was met by the specter's blade. Arken heaved downward on the blade and pushed his opponent's guard down, opening a hole for a quick stab to the chest with his dagger. The ghost grabbed the wound and fell back, disappearing in a grey cloud.

"Well struck, intruder. But now you face a sturdier opponent." The ghosts' leader stepped out of the fog and drew a sword from his belt. He held the blade in one hand and kept the other free to move. Arken took his stance and the two opponents started circling one another. They walked around in a circle for several long moments, both waiting for the other to make the first strike. Arken grew tired of the display and decided to swing first. He came in fast with a rising sweep aimed for the ribs. The ghostly leader snapped his blade in the way with lightning speed. Arken used the distraction to attack with his dagger. He was met by the ghost snapping his hand up and grabbing his wrist, holding the dagger well out of danger range. The ghost then slid his blade off of Arken's and pounded the weapon's pommel up into his diaphragm. Arken doubled over and stepped back, forcing himself to breath after getting the wind knocked out of him. Now that his opponent was weakened, the ghost pressed the attack with a low sweeping slash. Arken hopped clear of the blade and landed a stern punch to the ghost's head when he landed. The ghost grabbed his head and stepped back, a stunned look on his face. Arken smiled. The daedric dagger's magical properties were passed on to whatever held it, meaning he could punch the ghost with whichever hand he held the dagger in. The specter approached more cautiously this time, slowly circling and analyzing Arken. Arken retuned the gesture and circled his opponent. He only did so briefly before charging on the attack again. He swung his blade around to aim for a distracting strike to the shoulder only to find himself swinging through thin air. Arken spun around, looking for where the ghost had vanished to, and found him on the other side of Fynix, who was still fending off several other opponents. He readied his weapon to attack the mage while he was distracted.

"Fynix, Drop and Jump!" As soon as Arken said the words, Fynix dropped to one knee while Arken ran toward him. Arken hopped up onto Fynix's shoulders and spiral-somersaulted off, over and behind the ghost leader. He slashed at the ghost as he flew over him, catching his blade and throwing him off balance. Arken landed on his feet and back-fisted the ghost across the jaw, causing him to reel from the hit.

Fynix slid his blade off another and looked back at Arken, "Arken, I need a Brawl and Volley."

Arken dropped his sword and readied his bow, "Coming right up." He readied a silver arrow and took aim on Fynix's back as the mage opened his opponent's guard up and stepped aside. Arken fired the arrow through where Fynix was just standing to strike the ghost squarely in the chest. Arken scooped up his sword as the ghost leader was coming back on the attack. Before he closed the distance, Arken slipped his dagger back into his boot sheath in preparation for a plan that he hoped would work. The ghost brought his sword down and Arken swung upward to catch it. The resulting clash of weapons put the two combatants at each other's throats in a corpse-a-corpse. Arken pushed the ghost away and enacted his plan. He dropped down and swung a low round house through the ghost's legs, dropping him to the ground. Arken snatched the blade out of its sheath and straddled the ghost with the dagger at his throat.

"Hold!" Arken was about to end what life the ghost had when he boomed out a command to stop. In the blink of an eye, all the ghosts stopped attacking and stepped back. A puzzled look crossed Arken's face as he looked around.

The ghost smiled up at him, "You have proven worthy." He vanished from under Arken, dropping him to the ground, and reappeared standing several feet away.

"My lord will be pleased with your success. He eagerly awaits your arrival." The ghost bowed to Arken, "May your blade always strike true." Without another word, he and the rest of the ghosts vanished and the fog lifted.

Arken looked around. He could tell that they weren't where they were before. They were still in Aetherius, but somewhere else. He looked toward the structure they were going toward and thankfully noted that they were still on course, although they were noticeably closer, within several hours walk. Arken looked over at Fynix, who simply looked back while catching his breath.

"Who were those guys?"

Fynix shrugged as he fell into step with Arken, "They may have been Knights of the Nine, an order of holy warriors solely dedicated to the service of the Nine and guarding the holy relics. They all died out over time." He briefly looked back at the area they were walking away from, "Although, even in death they seem to continue their service." The rest of the day's journey was completed in relative silence as both Dunmer contemplated the reason they'd been attacked. The Nine had sent their knight servants to test them. They both wondered what other tests may be in store for them in this realm. It was an unsettling thought, at best.

They set up camp as the sun began to sink down into the horizon. The night wasn't as dark as it was in Tamriel. The darkness was filled with two full moons shining with light almost like a pair of nighttime suns, shedding a somewhat blue-green hue throughout the sky. The stars also shined more brightly and seemed to twinkle throughout the night, filling the sky with a festival of glitter and glint. Arken and Fynix decided to take advantage of their Dark Elf physiologies and have one person keep watch all night while the other slept. Fynix lay asleep on his bedroll with his staff laid across his chest, clutching the handle of his sword with one hand. Arken rather enjoyed the display he witnessed that night. He sat there in the grass leaning on his elbows, looking up at the festive night sky. He breathed a deep sigh, wishing he had brought Merrenda with him, knowing she would have adored the spectacle. He idly thought about his wife, remembering that he had a duty to her to come back in one piece. He smiled as he thought. He didn't like leaving her behind, but he knew she'd be safe at Cloud Ruler Temple. Arken set the thought aside for now and looked up to enjoy the view.


	17. Chapter XVII

17

Morning in Aetherius was announced with a symphony of birds calling in the dewy air. Arken tried to start a fire so they could have a warm breakfast in the morning, but the wood of Aetherius seemed reluctant to lend itself to burning. It also stung to be shown up when Arken had been working for an hour to start a fire only to have Fynix start it with a snap of his fingers.

After a quick bite to eat, the two Dunmer set back out on their journey. Along the way, they both kept a wary eye out for more ghostly threats. They weren't bothered for the rest of their journey to the structure, which turned out to be much larger than it looked. The building looked like a palace made of white marble and had a prestigious overlook of the cliff along the eastern edge of the area. Arken and Fynix walked up to the palace doors, dwarfed by the sheer size of just the doors themselves. Arken looked up at the mammoth doorway and looked at Fynix. The battlemage shrugged, knowing Arken's unspoken question and wordlessly answering that he didn't know who would live here either. Arken shrugged in return and raised his hand to knock when the doors opened by themselves. A man dressed in light blue and white robes stood in the opening. He bowed to the Dunmer in greeting, who both courteously returned the bow.

The man gestured into the room beyond the threshold, "The lord has been expecting you. Please. Do come in." Arken and Fynix looked at each other before cautiously walking into the room. The place was decorated in a very interesting way. No gold or silver was present on any face of the room, but the color scheme was mostly dominated by drab grays and whites, accentuated with various shades of blue, green, and dark red. It portrayed a luxurious yet humble look to the room.

The man motioned further into the palace, "Milord is waiting for you in the gardens. Please follow me." The two Dunmer followed this mysterious man to meet their even more enigmatic host. They followed him through the palace and out into the gardens behind. The gardens were alive with lush verdant plants of many kinds. Blossoms were everywhere ranging in any color from blue, red, purple, green, and yellow. The gardens had a spectacular view of the landscape and sea beyond the cliff. The domo led Arken and Fynix to a gazebo in the back where two men were talking, and dropped back as they came closer. One man looked vaguely familiar, while the other was unmistakable as none other than Martin Septim. As Martin spoke with his host, his glance happened across the two approaching Dunmer and the surprise clearly showed on his face. He stood from his seat and slowly approached Arken and Fynix. He looked at them both for a long moment before composing himself and breaking the hanging silence.

"My friends, I thought I'd never see you again. How did you get here?"

Fynix nodded to him, "It's a long story."

Arken scoffed and muttered under his breath, "A _very_ long story."

Martin looked back at the man he was talking with, "Where are my manners? Arken, Fynix, I'd like to introduce you to someone." He led them to his host and motioned to them as he spoke, "My lord, these are my friends, Fynix Nylim and Arken Dralkes. Arken, Fynix, this is Lord Tiber Septim, better known as Talos."

Tiber Septim stood and straightened his robes and cloak before shaking both their hands, "The pleasure of this meeting is mine. Martin speaks very highly of you both." Arken was amazed at the likeness as he shook the Divine's hand. Martin was the spitting image of his ancestor in almost every way.

Martin looked at the two Dunmer, "So now that I've ruled out how you got here, what brings you here to Aetherius?"

Arken nodded to Martin, "We came here to get you. We wanted to bring you back to Tamriel. The Empire still needs an Emperor."

Martin's response was strange. Instead of being elated at being brought back to fulfill his destiny as the Emperor of Tamriel, his face became troubled and disturbed.

Martin's eyes shifted nervously as he spoke, "It's odd that you would come when you did. It seems there is something I have to tell you."

"There is much you must tell them, Martin Septim." The voice boomed out of the sky. Arken looked up to see a fiery dragon fly over the palace and hover above the garden. The dragon became engulfed in a bright light, causing Arken and Fynix to shield their eyes. The light shifted and shrank until it faded into a person standing in the plaza. He appeared to be about middle aged, clean shaven, with long flowing white hair and glowing white eyes. He was adorned in a long white robe.

The man looked at the two Dunmer, "Much must be said with little time to say it."

Martin motioned to the new man, "Arken, Fynix, meet the Divine Akatosh."

Talos nodded to Martin, "I'll take my leave of you, then." He stepped back and disappeared in a cloud of light grey mist.

Fynix looked in awe at the Divine, "You're…you're Akatosh?"

He nodded, his booming voice seeming to echo within itself, "I am. It was by my power that rightful emperors led your great land."

Arken looked back at Martin, "You were saying that you have something to tell us."

Martin's face became pensive, "Yes, that. You see, shortly before your arrival, Akatosh and Talos extended a most generous offer to me."

Fynix looked quizzical, "What is it?"

"They have offered to make me one of the Divines." Martin took a deep breath, "I must say that it was an offer for which I was ill-prepared, but one that fills my heart with joy." He looked Arken and Fynix in the eye, "Can you see it, my friends? What I could do as a Divine. How I could help the people of Tamriel. A faithful god who would see to and meet the needs of his people. Imagine it."

Akatosh took a step forward and looked at both Arken and Fynix, "The Nine have decided that he would make a fine addition to our number. Who better to serve as a god than one who was willing to sacrifice his life for his people." He looked at Martin, "Your place awaits you, Martin Septim. You need only agree, and your ascendance to Aetherius will mark the first step in your rise to godhood."

Martin was about to say something when Arken put a hand on his shoulder, "Hold on, hold on. You're not really thinking about going through with this, are you?

Martin's eyes widened, "Why not? The people of Tamriel need good gods, Arken."

Arken nodded, "But they need an emperor more right now. They already have nine gods." He looked over at Akatosh, "No offense meant."

Akatosh nodded, "And none taken."

Arken looked back at Martin, "Martin, the people need you as Martin Septim, heir to the Dragon throne, not as some god."

Martin shook his head, "With Divine power, Arken, I could move someone much better qualified into place to be Emperor."

Fynix stepped closer, "Arken's right, Martin. The people need an Emperor. They need a ruler to lead them through the times that have fallen upon Tamriel."

Martin switched his gaze to Fynix, "But don't you see it, Fynix? As a Divine, I could lift this dark veil that has beset Tamriel. I could help the people to see the light through the shroud once more."

Arken shook his head before looking at Fynix and Akatosh, "Would you excuse us for a minute?" He took Martin aside and brought him out of earshot. He turned and faced him directly when they were far enough.

"Martin, I appreciate your desire to help people, and I'm sure this is a wonderful opportunity for you. And I'm very sure you want to take it. But have you thought about what the people of Tamriel need? Have you thought about what's best for them?"

"Arken, I think this is what's best for them. Why would the Divines have tolerated the Oblivion invasion? They knew it would end in bringing me here, into their presence. They brought me here to allow me to ascend. Can't you see it, Arken? They want me among them.

Arken put his hand on Martin's shoulder, "But we _need_ you among us." He let his hand drop and breathed a shallow sigh, "It's obvious that I'm not connecting with you here." He leaned in closer to Martin and looked him in the eye, "Would you come back for me? Would you come back for Fynix? For Baurus? For Jauffre? For anyone back in Tamriel who looked up to you. Which, by the way, was everyone." He placed his hand on Martin's shoulder again, "Your friends need you, Martin. We don't need you as Martin the Saint, we need you as Martin Septim."

Martin shook his head, "I believe Martin Septim's time drew to a close at the Temple of the One, Arken. It may be time for Martin the Saint to take his place."

Arken stared at him and shook his head, "There really is no persuading you from this, is there?" His gaze fell and he snickered, "It's funny, really. I was hoping to introduce you to my wife, Merrenda."

Martin's eyes widened, "She's alive?"

Arken nodded calmly, "Yes, and she's at Cloud Ruler Temple, waiting to meet you. It's a shame I'm going to have to disappoint her." Arken took deep breath and looked Martin in the eye, "Just remember this: I didn't come all this way to find a priest, or a hero, or an emperor. I came all this way to find a friend. I will ask you very pointedly, Martin Septim: can you turn your back on the people who need you just for the sake of godhood? Will you be able to look your friends in the eye and honestly say without regret that you made the right choice?" Arken stared at Martin for a long moment before turning and walking away toward the nearby cliff. He came to the edge and crouched down, looking out over the serene view of the sea.

Martin stood there, pondering Arken's words. Was he turning his back on his friends? Was he forsaking everyone who needed him and looked up to him just for a chance to become a god? He shook his head slowly. He didn't like the answer to either question. He couldn't help but feel that they were right. Though he knew he could do so much as a Divine, it just didn't seem right. Martin's head came around when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked and saw Akatosh, his empty eyes glowing like stars.

The Divine shook his head, "Not an easy decision is it. It comes down to this, Martin Septim of Tamriel. You may choose the path of a mortal man, and rise to become a mere emperor. Or you may choose the path of an immortal god, and rise to heights beyond imagining. What will you chose, Martin Septim? The choice is yours alone to make."

Martin thought about everything, knowing what wanted to do and knowing what was right. He also knew that what he wanted to do wasn't necessarily what was right. Martin looked back beyond Akatosh's shoulder, at Fynix. The Dunmer mage looked at him with a sullen face for a moment before turning away and pulling his hood up. He looked back at Arken, who hadn't moved yet. Martin now knew what he needed to do, what the right choice to make was.

"You've given me an extremely generous opportunity, my Lord Akatosh. There is no priest who does not idly dream of becoming a Divine." He turned and faced Akatosh, "But I'm afraid I must decline. I never once considered myself worthy to be Emperor of Tamriel, an inheritor of such a great legacy. How could I ever consider myself worthy to be a god of the people? My friends are right and I am wrong. My people need me as an emperor, not as a god. I don't know if I'll be able to live up to their expectations or not, but let it never be said that Martin Septim never tried for his people."

Akatosh smiled and nodded his head, "And in so choosing, Martin Septim, you have passed your test."

Martin furrowed his brow, "Test? What test?"

"This was a test of the man who you are beneath the flesh and bone. I wanted you to see that the most necessary place in the world around you is not always the highest one. Dark times loom in the future of Tamriel. I wanted a ruler of resilience and fortitude of character to lead the people in the coming days. You are that ruler, Martin Septim. You are the man who will serve your people as their ruler." Akatosh reached to his neck and pulled off a large red diamond-shaped amulet. Martin noticed that it looked exactly like the Amulet of Kings he had shattered in the Temple of the One to defeat Dagon. As he fastened it around Martin's neck, it glowed bright red for a moment.

"The Amulet of Emperors, far more powerful than the Amulet of Kings ever was. By this symbol, you shall lead the people of Tamriel through the coming shadow and beyond into the light."

Martin looked down in awe at the new amulet and then back at Akatosh, completely speechless.

Akatosh stepped back and bowed to Martin, "May you reign for many days to come, with the blessings of the Nine, Martin Septim." He turned and waved his hand through the air. Motes of light flew from his fingertips and coalesced into a portal.

"To your Cloud Ruler Temple. Fare thee well, Martin Septim." Without another word, Akatosh turned and started walking away, disappearing in a cloud of white mist.

Martin looked down at the Amulet of Emperors, then over at Arken. He still hadn't moved from his perch on the cliff edge. Martin smiled, eagerly anticipating his friend's response.

Arken sat there on the cliff edge, thinking to himself. He didn't like it. He hated the idea of having come all this way for nothing. To have spent days preparing to come here to find Martin and bring him back only to be forced to return empty-handed was a thought that burned the whole way down. Arken prided himself on being a man who always delivered results, and was very distraught about the concept of a black mark on his record. Arken tensed when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He already had a good idea of who it was.

Arken continued to look out over the sea, "Come to say goodbye?"

Martin shook his head, "I've come to say I'm back."

Arken turned his head and looked up at Martin, "You're back?"

Martin nodded, "You were right. The people need an emperor. If that is the greatest capacity in which I can serve them, then so be it."

Arken smiled as he stood and shook Martin's hand, "Good to have you back, Martin." The two men rejoined Fynix, who was equally pleased to hear the news. Martin pointed out the portal Akatosh had made for them and they all moved to step through. They passed through all together and the gateway closed behind them. When they arrived at Cloud Ruler Temple, however, things had changed drastically in the time they'd been gone. Arken looked around in disbelief. Men wearing conjured daedric armor met the trio with weapons drawn as they exited the portal. Behind them, the Blades had all been rounded up and were on their knees with their hands tied. Baurus, Jauffre, Merrenda, and Talliea were tied up in a group on their own. In the midst of the invaders was Krayven, wearing a new and highly polished suit of Daedric armor. A red-robed man stepped forward and looked at the three men who had just returned from Aetherius.

He pointed to their weapons, "Remove your weapons. Now!" Arken shot a look at Jauffre. The Grandmaster's face showed his resignation as he reluctantly nodded his head. Arken and Fynix both grudgingly removed their weapons and dropped them on the floor. The Mythic Dawn guards grabbed them and shoved them closer to the red-robed man. Arken was wondering how the Mythic Dawn could have gotten to Cloud Ruler Temple when he saw a large glowing portal in the courtyard through the open doors. Arken wanted to smack himself when it occurred to him. That's why Krayven wanted those Welkynd Stones. The Mythic Dawn had built their own portal tower.

The red-robed man paced back and forth in front of Arken and Fynix for a long moment before speaking, "So this is the legendary Arken Dralkes." He glanced Arken over, "He doesn't look like much. Hard to think that such a man could best you, Krayven." Krayven's face hardened and he growled in his throat.

The man walked up to Fynix, "His accomplice doesn't appear to be any threat either." He leaned in closer, "What's your name."

Fynix smiled, "First name's Bugger. Middle initial, 'U'. Last name's Fetcher."

Another guard stepped up and thrashed a rod across the unarmored backs of Fynix's thighs.

Fynix winced with the pain and looked up at the guard, "That the best you have, s'wit?"

The guard raised his rod again when the red-robed man raised his hand, "Enough. Don't waste your strength on him." He walked up to Arken, "It's this one who I have a greater interest in. You've caused a great deal of trouble for me and my cause."

Arken smirked defiantly, "I'm known for that."

"I have no doubt you are. I assume you're…" Before he could finish his thought, Arken wrenched one of his arms free and threw back the man's hood before he was subdued by a second guard. The Mythic Dawn leader was an Altmer with a windblown mane of uncharacteristically dark hair. He finished pushing the hood back and shook his hair free of the loose ponytail it was held in.

He regarded Arken with a disinterested look, "Satisfied?"

"I make it a point to see my enemy's face."

The Altmer shrugged, "A noble, if foolish point. To further satisfy you, my name is Kantheras, not that the information will do you any good at this point." Kantheras started slowly circling Arken and Fynix, "I must say, you had me quite fooled. I thought this useful little device of yours was meant to bring back the dead. I would have used it to bring the Master back so he could continue to guide us to enlightenment. But its true use serves just as well the plots of revenge. Through your use of the device, you have brought me the collar that I will clasp around this empire's neck."

Arken and Fynix's eyes both widened when they realized what he meant. They looked back at Martin, who was being muscled out toward the portal with his hands tied.

Arken clenched his teeth, "Oh, no you won't…" He pulled against the guards, but they kept him in a solid grip. Arken continued to struggle until one of then brought an elbow down into his collar bone. Pain surged through the pressure point and Arken stopped for the time being.

Kantheras continued, "Now that I have the Imperial heir, I can ask any price of the Empire and get it." He leaned in closer to Arken and Fynix, "And I would like to thank both of you for bringing him to me." Arken lunged toward Kantheras again before another guard brought a rod down into the backs of his legs, temporarily dropping him to his knees before he stood back up.

Kantheras turned and started walking toward the portal, "You'd best save your strength, Dralkes. You'll need it for what I have planned for you."

One of his guards called his attention, "What do you want done with these, sir?" He gestured toward Merrenda and Talliea.

Kantheras stopped and looked over, thinking for a moment, "We may need some leverage." He pointed at Merrenda, "Bring her."

"NO!" Arken started going wild. He tugged at the guards holding him and started dragging them. A third guard joined in, but Arken shoved him aside with his shoulder. Two more stood in front of him and pushed him back. Arken clenched his teeth, forced to do nothing but watch as Merrenda was dragged to the portal. She looked back at Arken longingly. Even from this distance, Arken could see in her eyes that she knew he would come and find her, wherever they went. Merrenda and the guards holding her stepped through the portal and vanished.

"What do we do with the rest of them?"

Kantheras looked around, "Keep them held here. We'll be back for them." He looked at Arken and Fynix, "Kill these two." He turned and stepped through the portal.

Arken hung his head, having run himself out of breath struggling against his captors. He picked his head up as Krayven stepped in front of him.

Arken sneered at the Imperial, "So you get the honors, huh?"

Krayven shook his head, "Sadly, I don't. But I would have enjoyed being the one to kill you myself."

Arken smirked, "Pity, isn't it." No sooner had Arken spoken did Krayven step forward and backhand him across the face, the metal of his gauntlets upbraiding the flesh and leaving some bloody marks on Arken's cheekbone.

Krayven leaned in close, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, Arken."

Arken looked back at him and smirked again, "I'd guess since I showed your true colors to the Morag Tong."

Krayven swung again, landing his fist in Arken's gut. The Dunmer doubled over, thankful that his stomach was empty as he resisted the urge to vomit.

Krayven grabbed a handful of Arken's hair and held his face up, "I'm not done with you. And by the time I am, you'll be begging me to kill you."

Arken scowled at him, "Bring it on." Krayven released Arken and turned to leave, the portal closing behind him. The guards started dragging Arken and Fynix away from the rest, looking for someplace to dispose of the bodies. As one of the guards was stepping down, Arken kicked the guard's foot out from under him, tripping him and sending him to the ground. Arken used the guard's momentum to toss him into the other on that side. With his right arm free, he snaked his hand around the neck of one of the guards on his left and grabbed his chin. Arken pulled back hard, success being announced by the loud snap of the bones. He then bent forward and snapped a kick to the last guard's knee cap, forcibly straightening his leg. Arken grabbed the guard's mace and clobbered him across the side of the head with his own weapon. One of the guards got up from the floor and attacked with a sword. Arken ducked under the slash and swung his foot through the guard's legs, bringing him back to the floor. Arken snatched the sword out of the guard's hand and staked it down into its owner's chest. Another guard charged at Arken with his weapon held high. As the distance closed, Arken dropped to one knee and jammed the sharp tips of the mace into the guard's gut, piecing through his armor and hitting flesh. The guard doubled over and fell to the floor, his armor vanishing in a red cloud.

Arken stood and looked around. Everyone was cleaning up the area. His escape attempt had caused enough of a distraction that the Blades had overthrown their captors. Fynix was wrestling with the last guard before he placed his hand on the guard's cuirass. It started turning red with heat. The guard fell back and started writhing, trying to get out of the conjured armor. Fynix extinguished him with a powerful frost bolt. He looked over at Arken and wiped his brow. Arken nodded in return and moved to find Jauffre. He found him gathering everyone back into the Great Hall, presumably to make plans to retaliate and get Martin back.

Arken motioned to the Mythic Dawn bodies, "How did they get in here?"

Jauffre looked displeased with the explanation, "We were minding our own business when that accursed portal just appeared in the courtyard. It took Steffan and Roliand off their feet immediately. They just started pouring out by the dozens. They completely overwhelmed us, and worse yet, took us all alive."

Arken nodded, "When you said a few men could hold this fortress against an army, you weren't counting on the army already being inside the walls."

"Exactly." Jauffre looked at Baurus, "Report."

"Everyone's fine, sir. No lasting damage."

He nodded and looked at Fynix, "Fynix, can you get this device to open a portal in the Mythic Dawn headquarters? We can use their own tactic against them."

Fynix nodded, "Yes, but I need to know where they're hiding."

Arken looked around at the bodies, "And I think we just killed off everyone who'll talk."

"Not entirely." Baurus and Achille came in holding a prisoner between them. The man was dressed in hunter's clothing. They brought him in and shoved him to his knees in front of Jauffre.

"We found him hiding in the stables."

Baurus scoffed lightly, "Hiding? Cowering was more like it."

Jauffre nodded, "Well, it appears we'll have to turn the spy into a squeal." He jerked his head toward a chair, "Sit him down."

The two Blades hefted him up and landed him heavily in the chair. Jauffre walked up to him and folded his arms across his chest.

"Where is your base?" Silence was his reply.

Jauffre leaned down, "Make it easier on both of us and tell me. Where are you hiding?"

The spy shook his head, "Never. Long live Mehrunes Dagon."

Baurus looked down at him, "Maybe he needs some time to realize their fight is hopeless."

Jauffre nodded, "I'll give you an hour. You'd best be ready to talk by then."

As Jauffre turned to see to another task, Arken walked up behind the spy and drew his dagger. He placed the blade at the man's throat, causing him to stiffen in fear.

Arken leaned down close to his ear, "Let me cover this point before we continue: I've stepped on the necks of disarmed enemies and killed them while they struggled to flee. Killing you would be nothing traumatic for me. Now why don't you tell me where the Mythic Dawn is?"

The spy's eyes darted down to the blade, "L…L…Lake Arrius Caverns. We never moved from the caverns."

Baurus chuckled, "Amazing how the sight of a blade will loosen a tongue."

Jauffre scoffed, "Probably thought it'd be the last place we'd look." He looked over at Fynix, "Can you get a portal there?"

Fynix nodded and motioned for Talliea to follow him. Jauffre looked back over at the prisoner to see Arken about to pull the blade across his throat.

"Arken!" The Dunmer's head came up at hearing his name.

Jauffre shook his head, "We do not kill prisoners."

Arken scowled at Jauffre before reluctantly removing the blade from the spy's throat and stowing it. He turned and walked away without a word.

Fynix and Talliea quickly discovered that opening a portal was harder than it sounded. They tried to activate the tower with no success. Fynix cast a potent lightning spell over it, but the portal wouldn't open. He looked around and thought for a moment.

Fynix's eyes widened when he realized something, "It must be low on charge. Holding the portal open for as long as it did must have drained it." He pointed to the nearest Blade, "I have a bag of filled soul gems in the library. Bring it out here."

Baurus nodded at Fynix's idea, but then started looking around, "Where's Arken?"

The question brought Fynix's head up. He looked around and a horrified look crossed his face. He scrambled to his feet and ran out to the courtyard to confirm his suspicions. He came to the stables and his heart sank when he saw that Ebony was gone.

"Oh, no." Fynix ran back into the Great Hall and rummaging through his soul gems, "We need to get a portal open quickly."

Jauffre walked up next to him, "What is it? What's going on?"

Fynix stopped digging and looked at him, "Arken's gone. They took his wife, remember? We need to get a portal open soon or there won't be enough left of him to bury."


	18. Chapter XVIII

18

Kantheras walked the halls of the caverns, checking the security in light of their recent victory. He had the Imperial heir as a prisoner, so things in the caves needed to be tighter than ever. If he escaped, everything would fall apart. Krayven was tending to what he referred to as "personal business", which left Kantheras alone to shore up the defenses. He stopped in the hall next to a guard and looked at him for a moment.

He gestured to the surrounding area, "Make sure this area is secure. No surprises."

The guard nodded to him, "Yes, sir."

Kantheras continued walking down the hall. As he rounded the bend, a pair of hands reached out of the shadows behind the guard and pulled him in. There was the quiet sound of a brief struggle, the scrape of a blade, then silence.

Kantheras continued down the halls and through the rooms of the caverns, shoring up weak spots as he found them. He told another guard to check the room he was in and make sure it was secure before moving on. The guard looked around the area, believing all to be well. Before he knew what hit him, the same set of hands reached down from the ceiling, snapped his neck, and pulled him up into the shadows.

Kantheras came to a store room and looked at the guard, "Everything quiet?"

"Not a whisper, milord."

The High Elf nodded, "Good. Keep sharp. I don't want any surprises."

The guard nodded in return, "Yes, sir."

Kantheras looked around at the room, then back at the guard, "And make sure…" The guard was gone. Kantheras frowned for a moment, but then relaxed.

"Hmm. Good man, snapping to his orders as soon as they're given. He may be in line for a promotion soon." He thought no more of it and continued on.

He came to an intersection chamber and pointed at the guard, "Has this area been quiet."

The guard nodded confidently, "All's well, sir."

"This is a high traffic area, you know." Kantheras walked past him and looked in both of the other directions before turning back around to the guard, "I want you to…what?" Where a perfectly healthy guard had been, a corpse with a slit throat was now standing in his place. The guard's body fell to his knees before collapsing to the floor. Kantheras stepped back as blood pooled at the neck of the body. He looked around horrified. He had heard nothing, seen nothing. What killed that guard? How many other's had it gotten? Was he next? He turned and started running down the first hall he saw. He came to a guard at a bend in the hall, but before he could call him, an arrow flew past his head and speared the guard in the neck. Kantheras looked behind him briefly. Nothing but empty hallway. He started running faster, trying to get away from whatever was hunting him. He found another guard who only met the same fate as the last one, an arrow from behind piercing through his forehead. Kantheras looked back. Again the hallway was empty. What was hunting him?

He had to think of a safe place. His quarters. His quarters were well guarded and there was only one entrance. He took off through the halls until he found his quarters, but was horrified at what he saw. Both guards posted in front of his door were dead when he arrived, their throats slit. Kantheras leaped through the door and slammed it behind him. He leaned against the door for a minute, catching his breath now that he was safe for the moment. He turned around and was startled to find a Dunmer in green glass armor in the room with him. His red eyes gleamed demonically in the cavern's low light, accentuating the anger that covered his face.

Arken glared at the Mythic Dawn leader. He raised his sword and pointed it at the Altmer's neck. He wanted to kill him. He should kill him for all that he and his kind had done, but he needed him. Arken needed him to tell him where the prisoners were.

Arken kept his questioning brief, "Where are they?"

Kantheras looked around nervously, "Who? Where are who?"

"Play dumb and you'll wish you hadn't." Arken stepped close enough to touch the blade's tip to the Altmer's chin, "Where are your hostages?"

Before he answered, Kantheras opened the door behind him and ran. Arken took off after him like a shot. His honed physical condition and agility made it easy to catch up with Kantheras, who obviously was not a fighter. Kantheras came to a large intersecting room and paused to get his bearings, allowing Arken to shortcut him and get in front of him. Arken put the tip of his blade to the Altmer's neck as he slowly stepped backward away from him.

Arken held up two fingers, "That was strike two. You don't want strike three. Where are they?"

Kantheras stepped back away from Arken's blade, speechless with fear. He stepped one more time when his back arched and his face looked pained. He jerked again as the tip of a sword pushed through his chest from behind. The blade twisted in the wound before the wielder slid his corpse off to the floor.

Krayven slithered out of the shadows and looked down at Kantheras's body, "Consider my services…withdrawn."

Arken looked at the body briefly before looking at Krayven, "What are you after this time, Krayven. What could possibly be so valuable that it would get you to work for someone else?"

Krayven wiped off his blade as he and Arken started circling one another, "The portal tower. It's not wealth in the normal sense. The portal tower is far more valuable than that. With it, I could not only go where I want, but if properly exploited, I could control Tamriel."

Arken glowered at the Imperial, "No province leader would be safe. They're going about their everyday life when a portal suddenly appears in their home. You step out, kill them, and leave just as quickly. No evidence of forced entry."

Krayven nodded, "As word gets out about the first couple of assassinations, I send a covert message to the leaders of every province. If they want to live, they do what I say. They disobey, I pay them a visit." Krayven stopped circling and raised his eyebrows, "I could control every province in Tamriel as though I were the Emperor himself. The armies of the Empire, at my fingertips. The wealth of the land, mine for the taking. Imagine it." The smile on Krayven's face faded, "But I will have my revenge against you before I ascend to become king of the world."

Arken huffed and pointed to Krayven's new claymore, "Nice blade."

Krayven held up a razor sharp glass claymore and looked at it, "You like it? Took me a month to fix what the previous owner did to it. He was a little unwilling to part with it." The new blade, in combination with his new daedric armor, meant he was very well equipped.

Krayven pointed the blade at Arken, "This is the blade that will kill you, Arken Dralkes. I will have my revenge. I'm not just going to kill you. I will erase you. I will rub your name from the surface of this world. No one will know you ever existed by the time I'm through."

Arken nodded to Krayven, "Then we settle this. Here and now. May the best Dunmer win." Arken swung high and Krayven blocked it, clashing the blades together in the middle. Before the fight could escalate, a bright yellow flash erupted from the air between them and threw them both back. The flash grew into a portal and Blades started streaming out. Fynix and Jauffre were among the first to step out with weapons drawn.

Fynix started to walk over to Arken, "Arken! There you are. We opened the…" Completely disregarding what Fynix was saying, Arken hopped to his feet and took off down the hall to follow Krayven. There were no offshoots in this hall. If there was only one entrance, this was very likely where Merrenda and Martin were. Arken came to the end of the hall and kicked in the door that stood in his way. He took in the scene at a glance. It was an empty room except for the occupants. Martin was on his knees tied up in one corner.

The part that chilled Arken to the bone was the other two occupants. Krayven stood behind Merrenda with an arm around her neck and a dagger to her back.

Krayven smiled sadistically, "I told you I would have my revenge, Arken." He sunk the blade into Merrenda's back.

"NO!" Arken watched helplessly as Krayven pulled the dagger out and dropped Merrenda to the floor. Rage burned in Arken's mind and pushed rational thought to the back of the line. Anger permeated every fiber of the Dunmer's being. He charged Krayven with his blade out to strike. The Imperial barely had enough time to pull his claymore before Arken struck. The blades connected with a loud clash that echoed in the caverns. Arken used the recoil to spin around and attack from the other side. Krayven moved again to block. Arken rotated the blade and struck again, this time cranking the swords around and throwing Krayven's out of his hands. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Krayven grabbed a handful of dust from the cavern floor and threw it in Arken's face. Arken got some dirt in his eyes and had to blink it out.

By the time his vision cleared, he saw a very bad sight. Krayven was standing there wielding a Daedric longsword in each hand. He struck high, but as Arken moved to block, Krayven brought the other sword around sidearm. Rather than blocking, Arken rolled out of the blades' paths, throwing himself off balance. He stumbled into the wall, but couldn't stop moving as Krayven slashed down the wall where Arken just was. Arken brought his sword around to block, catching one of Krayven's blades and ducking under the other. He blocked one strike again and dodged out of the way of the second. Krayven could attack from two directions simultaneously, putting Arken at a severe disadvantage. Krayven caught Arken's sword in a cross guard and scissored the bladed together, yanking Arken's sword from his hand and throwing it behind him. Arken dropped to his back and rolled away from Krayven, snatching his weapon up as he came to his feet. Arken felt behind him only to feel rock wall. He was out of room. Krayven came down with an overhead chop with both blades and Arken dove forward next to him. Krayven had apparently been expecting the maneuver and stomped on Arken as he passed by. Arken rolled over and raised his sword as Krayven came down with both of his, clashing the trio of blades together with a deafening clatter. The Dunmer pushed as hard as he could, but strength not withstanding, Krayven could put his weight into it. The Imperial straddled the Dunmer and straightened his elbows, pressing dangerously close to Arken's face.

Krayven smiled down at Arken, "This is how we settle this, Dunmer."

Arken spoke through gritted teeth as he pushed back, "Nice trick. With the dust and all."

"You should have remembered that I never fight fair, Arken."

"I know. But there's something you should have remembered, too."

Krayven raised his eyebrows, "Really. And what's that?"

Arken smiled up at him, "Neither do I." He abruptly snapped his knee up into Krayven's groin. The Imperial's eyes bugged with the pain and surprise clearly showed on his face. Now free of Krayven's pressure, Arken slid himself out from under him and kicked Krayven in the face, dropping him back against the wall. Krayven slowly stood as Arken shoulder-hopped to his feet and attacked. He knocked one of the longswords out of Krayven's hand with the first strike, evening the odds a great deal. Several sword blows were exchanged, a constant battle of strike, block, counterstrike, and parry. Krayven spun with a power swing that Arken dodged back from before he lunged in with a low sweep of his own. Krayven hopped over the strike and readied an attack of his own when Arken pulled yet another of his famous wild cards. The Dunmer stayed on one knee after the sweep and leaned forward as Krayven regained his footing, putting him behind Krayven's guard. He swung back at waist level and played the edge of the blade across Krayven's side just below his cuirass. Krayven staggered away from Arken, cradling his wound. Arken stood up and pointed his blade at Krayven, a direct challenge.

Krayven scowled at Arken, "This isn't over, Dunmer! We've only begun our fight here! And next time, you will not walk away from it!" Krayven snapped his hand toward the floor and there was a blinding flash of light. Arken shielded his eyes from the light. Krayven was gone when he lowered his arm. Without a moment's pause, Arken jammed his sword back into its scabbard and ran to Merrenda's side.

He picked her up and looked at her, hoping for some sign of life, "Merrenda. No. No."

Her eye fluttered open, "Arken, I…It…hurts…I…" She drifted back into unconsciousness.

"Fynix!" Arken looked down the hall. He picked Merrenda up off the floor, "Fynix!!!" Fynix came barreling through the broken door and was shocked by what he saw. He strode up to Arken and put two fingers on Merrenda's neck.

Fynix shook his head, "We have to get her back to Cloud Ruler. Now."

Arken shot a brief look back at Martin. He gave the Dunmer an agitated nod.

"Don't worry about me. Help her. Go!"

Not needing to be told twice, Arken and Fynix ran through the cavern halls to the portal. Along the way, Fynix cast a healing spell on Merrenda to stop the bleeding. They jumped through the portal to Cloud Ruler Temple and ran to grand chambers. The chamber was normally used to house the high profile guests like an Emperor, but in this case, it was housing a medical emergency. Arken ran to the chamber while Fynix ran toward his alchemy equipment. While Fynix was brewing a hurried heath potion, Arken stripped Merrenda out of her Elven armor to clean the wound and dressed her in a white night gown before laying her on the bed. He pulled the covers up over her as Fynix came in with a pair of vials in his hands.

He handed one to Arken, "Rub this on and around the wound." Arken applied the healing balm to Merrenda's wound while Fynix carefully fed her the other potion. They finished administering the medications and Fynix cast another healing spell over her. He took the empty bottle from Arken and looked at Merrenda.

"Now, all we can do is wait." Arken pulled the chair from the desk up by the bed and sat down. He wouldn't leave her. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't help feeling it was his fault. If he hadn't told her to stay, let her come with them, this might not have happened. She'd be safe and healthy right now. Whether it was his fault or not, he wouldn't leave her, not this time.

The afternoon faded into evening with no change in Merrenda's health. The Blades finished clearing out the caverns, for good this time. They rounded up all the surviving members of the Mythic Dawn and shipped them off to the Imperial City to serve their time. Arken kept an unceasing vigil over his wife, not leaving her side even for a moment. Fynix brought him food from time to time, but he refused to eat. Arken just sat there, watching her, and for the first time in his life, praying that she would live.

The next morning came and slowly passed on into the rest of the day. The Blades all went about their usual daily duties, but a somber mood hung in the halls of Cloud Ruler Temple as all of them knew about the life that hung so precariously in the balance. Martin came in occasionally to offer comfort to Arken, but his reply was always silence. Arken just sat there, watching Merrenda, hardly even blinking for fear of something happening. Fynix stood near the doorway, looking at the two of them, and shook his head slowly. He was one of the most powerful battlemages the guild halls of Sadrith Mora had ever produced and an accomplished healer through his alchemical studies, yet he felt so helpless when he looked at Merrenda, lying asleep on the bed, her life hanging from a thread that he couldn't shore up. Fynix turned his head with a start when he felt a pair of hands touch his shoulders. He looked and saw Talliea, concern radiating from her eyes.

She nodded toward Merrenda, "How is she?"

Fynix sighed and shook his head, "I'm not sure I got to her in time."

Talliea rested her head against Fynix's shoulder, "You've done your best. I think he'll respect that."

The evening fluttered by without event and with no change. Arken barely moved throughout the night. The morning sunlight began to leak through the windows as Arken's head began to slowly drop. He pulled it back up with a start and kept watching Merrenda. As the endless minutes passed, he head slowly fell again. Arken looked back up and shook his head hard to wake up. He hadn't slept since before they left for Aetherius, and through all the exertion of the last few days, Arken's body was succumbing to fatigue. But he couldn't fall asleep now. He had to keep watching. Something might happen, and he had to be there for her when it did. Arken continued to watch Merrenda as his head slowly began to fall again.

Arken's head snapped back up like a spring. He heard something from her, the slightest little moan. She stirred slightly before slowly blinking her eyes open. Fear crossed her face and she started looking around.

"Arken?"

Filled with a renewed vigor, Arken dove out of his chair, nearly toppling it backward, and slid on his knees next to the bed, taking her hand in his, "I'm here. I'm right here."

Merrenda looked over at him and smiled weakly, "There you are, beloved."

Arken breathed a deep sigh and buried his face in the bed, holding back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. Merrenda was alive. He hadn't lost her this time. He was so elated that if he weren't so tired, he could jump for joy down the halls singing her name.

"I'll be right back, love. I promise." Arken stood and ran out of the chamber, nearly ripping the door from its slide to get through. He ran to the Great Hall and threw the door open, where he found Fynix, Talliea, Martin, Baurus, and Jauffre.

"She's awake!" His brief message delivered, he turned and ran back down the hall. He came into the chamber and dropped to his knees at Merrenda's side, taking her hand in his again. Fynix, Talliea, and Martin all came through the door into the chamber to see her.

Fynix sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled, "Hey there. Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

Merrenda took a deep breath and winced, "Tired, and my side hurts."

Fynix nodded, "Right. I know just the thing. Be right back." He stood to leave and motioned Talliea to follow him.

Martin walked up next to the bed and smiled down at her, "Good to see you're doing better. If you or your husband need anything, I'll help in whatever way I can."

Arken motioned up the Martin, "I imagine you already know, but Merrenda, this is Martin Septim, son of Uriel Septim. Martin, this is my lovely wife, Merrenda Dralkes."

Merrenda nodded, "We met in the caverns, but introductions without the Mythic Dawn around are good."

Martin nodded and looked at Arken, "Your wife is a brave woman, Arken. She stood up to them and resisted them at every turn. Defiant to the end."

Merrenda patted Arken's hand, "I had a good teacher." She looked over at her husband, "He did his best to watch out for me while we were prisoners."

Arken stood up and shook Martin's hand, "I'm in your debt, Martin. Thank you."

Martin shook his head, "No, no, I'm in your debt. You came to Aetherius and convinced me to come back. You helped me do the right thing. It was just a small part of returning the favor." Fynix and Talliea came in to the room carrying a number of vials. Fynix sat down on the edge of the bed and helped Merrenda take the various potions.

He handed the last bottle to Talliea and looked at Merrenda, "All right, now lie still." He held his hand over her and closed his eyes. Little motes of blue-white light spiraled around his hand and coalesced into a bright glow at his palm. The glow extended from his hand to encompass Merrenda's entire body before fading out.

Fynix opened his eyes and smiled, "There. How do you feel now?"

Merrenda nodded, "Better, but still tired."

"Then I suggest you get some sleep." He pointed at Arken, "And that goes for you, too."

Arken chuckled as best he could, "I will now that I can."

Fynix nodded and stood, "Okay, everyone. Out. Out, out, out. Let's give them some privacy. Let's go. Move it."

Arken stroked Merrenda's cheek as he looked into her eyes, "I thought I'd lost you again."

She smiled weakly, "I'm sticking around this time."

Arken laid his bedroll out on the floor next to the bed. He reclined back and was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. Fynix closed the windows and shut the door to let them sleep undisturbed.

He looked at Baragon, who was guarding the door, "I want you to mercilessly beat anyone who makes so much as a peep in this hallway. They are not to be disturbed. Understood?"

Baragon nodded smartly, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Fynix turned and left the wing to face an unenviable task. He had to clean up his mess in the library. He walked into the library and nearly turned and walked out of the room again when he saw how much there was. He had no fewer than three tables set up in a desk pattern with piles of scrolls, paper, inkwells, quills, and other assorted stuff scattered all across their surfaces. He also had several piles of books at the end of each table, and two piles on the floor that were no less than three feet high each. Fynix breathed a defeated sigh and set about the task of at least gathering everything together. Talliea came in and started helping sort the books while he cleaned up the parchments.

She looked over at him while stacking the books, "So your little adventure is over, is it?"

Fynix nodded, "Yes, I believe it is. Quite the cliché bard's tale, wasn't it?"

Talliea pushed a pile aside and looked at him, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you had the dashing heroes and the evil villains to start with. The heroes set out on a noble quest to rescue a friend. Along the way, the evil villains try to beset them at every turn. One of the heroes has his own quest to rescue his fair maiden. The heroes rescue their friend, the one hero rescues his fair maiden, and they defeat the evil villains in the end, and they all live happily ever after. Not much in the way of legend writing material there."

Talliea thought for a moment while she organized a series of volumes, "But it's not complete."

Fynix raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean 'not complete'?"

She shrugged casually, "One of the dashing heroes didn't find his fair maiden. The story isn't over yet."

Fynix let out a cynical chuckle as he realized her meaning, "Well, that hero and his maiden had something of a falling out many years before…" He trailed off and looked at Talliea, "Although, they did make amends during the story. Perhaps, they could have…picked up where they left off."

Talliea set the book she was holding down, "Fynix, that sounds like an invitation to me."

Fynix shrugged, "I owe you a dinner. I've been late for that date for twenty five years. It's about time I got on with it." He walked over to her and took his hands in his, "Talliea, would come to dinner with me tonight, and forgive a stupid young mage of the foolishness of his youth?"

Talliea smiled back at him, "Only if you can forgive a stubborn blacksmith's daughter for not being as forthcoming as she should have been."

Fynix smiled, "Consider it done."

Talliea nodded, "Then consider it done." The two drew together into the first true kiss of their relationship. They held one another for a long moment before pulling apart and gazing into each other's eyes. The clean up could wait. The two Dunmer left the library to spend some time together and plan a twenty-five year overdue date. Jauffre and Baurus noticed the Dunmer couple walking a little closer than normal in the Great Hall.

Jauffre snickered, "First Arken brings his wife here. Now Fynix seems to be renewing his relationship. This isn't a Blade fortress. It's a Dark Elf couple's retreat."

Baurus scoffed as he walked away, "We can put a sign out over the gate: Cloud Ruler Temple, Blades and Dunmer couples welcome."

Jauffre smiled as he watched Fynix and Talliea walk out into the courtyard. He reflected back on the quest they'd all undertaken in the last three weeks. Mostly, he reflected on Arken. When Arken left to find his wife in Morrowind, Jauffre was livid, thinking that Arken was shirking his duties for personal matters. When he went off on his own to rescue his wife from the Mythic Dawn, Jauffre seemingly accepted it. He snickered to himself. He had seen what Arken was made of. He had seen the man underneath the glass armor and Dark Elf flesh and bone. Arken was an orphan, a thief, a criminal in two provinces, but beneath all that was a good man refused to let his circumstances shape him. He rose above it all and lived life to its fullest. Arken's moral compass may have been a little shaky, but Jauffre saw that it always pointed north sooner or later. Jauffre nodded as he looked around. It had been a long time since Jauffre had walked the walls of Cloud Ruler Temple just to enjoy the view, so he decided to remedy that.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

"…by the Amulet of Emperors, the new symbol of Akatosh's power, is your new rule brought forth. Thus by this Dragon Crown, I crown thee Martin Septim, Emperor of Tamriel." Martin knelt before Chancellor Ocatto as the Altmer mage gently placed the Red Dragon Crown on his head. Martin took a deep breath and let it out. So much time and enormous amounts of effort had been building toward this moment. They had already gone through the ritual to light the Dragonfires around the dragon statue in the Temple of the One, and now they simply stood on ceremony to crown the new Emperor before the people. He stood to his feet as Chancellor Ocatto stepped back.

Ocatto bowed to him, "May you reign long and well, your Majesty."

Martin turned around to face the people behind him. He pushed his royal robe away from his feet, allowing the sun to glint off of his freshly polished Dragon armor, his other hand resting on the silver longsword at his belt. The crowd in front of him erupted in a thunder of cheers and applause. It looked like the whole of Tamriel had turned out for the coronation ceremony. Martin had never seen this many people in one place at the same time. The people were divided in two with a red carpet-lined isle down the middle of them. Either side of the isle was lined with Legion soldiers, every seventh soldier holding a spear with the Imperial banner on it. Martin held up his hands to quiet the roar of the crowd and everyone quieted down.

Martin raised his voice, hoping it would carry far enough, "People of Tamriel, this day has been a long time in coming, and I do not hold my self as worthy to lead you, but I promise you upon the grave of my father, Uriel Septim VII, that I will do my best for the good of the Empire."

The crowd broke into applause again, causing Martin to raise his hands once more, "Though this day may be to celebrate the crowning of an Emperor, this day does not belong to me."

He descended the stairs in front of him and started walking down the isle, people falling to their knees as he passed, "This day belongs, in fact, to two men. I would not be here today were it not for them. They have faced unspeakable dangers fighting for an Empire in which they have little part. These men have fought the scourge of the Mythic Dawn since their plot was first revealed. They were there at the siege of Kvatch. They braved the fires of Oblivion, closing one gate after another, after another. They faced numerous dangers in their attempt to reclaim the Amulet of Kings from the enemy. They faced Mehrunes Dagon himself."

Martin veered off the isle into the crowd, the people parting like a sea before him, "Lastly, these two men traveled far, into the planes of Aetherius itself, to convince a young priest that godhood was not his intended role. These are men of great integrity, courage, and strength. They are men who have forged their own destinies in the fires of fate."

Martin stopped in front of two Dunmer, Arken Dralkes and Fynix Nylim, "But above all, they are men who I can truly call 'friends'." Following protocol, Arken and Fynix dropped to one knee and bowed their heads before the new Emperor. Arken looked up when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

Martin looked down and shook his head, "My friends, do not bow to me. As I said before, the Septim blood may flow through my veins, but yours are the souls of heroes." He smiled, "And I would have my Champions stand proud in my presence." Arken and Fynix looked cautiously at each other before rising back to their feet.

Martin continued to address the crowd while looking at them, "These men, who have known no fear, no weakness, endured all hardship, are the Champions of Cyrodill. They are true heroes of Tamriel, and may all learn by their example." Martin turned to face the crowd, "This day shall their names be written in the Elder Scroll of our time, that all generations may know them."

Fynix's jaw dropped open while Arken's eyes went wide. The Elder Scrolls were the summation of all knowledge of Tamriel and a full record of all the history of the Empire since its first founding. Heroes were often recorded, but never named. Their deeds were described for all to read about, but only the greatest heroes of the time would have their names written in the Elder Scrolls. To have their names written in the Elder Scrolls was to secure a place in the annals of history for eternity. Arken snickered to himself as he found it ironic. Krayven wanted to erase him from history, while Martin had just ensured that future generations for the rest of time would know his name.

Martin turned back to face them and put a hand on each of their shoulders, "You will always be welcome in my courts, my friends. I must go now, but I hope to see you both later." He nodded to them and turned to return to the platform.

Arken looked over at Fynix. He was too dumbstruck to say much of anything. He smiled and looked next to him at a very happy Talliea.

"The greatest honor of our time." Merrenda's eyes were distant as she contemplated the award her husband had just been given. She looked at him, "So you think you might settle down again now?"

Arken reluctantly shook his head, "I don't think so. Krayven escaped, and he's still out there somewhere, probably plotting some demented scheme of revenge. I don't think either me or Fynix will be able to settle down so long as he still lives."

Merrenda held Arken's arm and rested her head against his shoulder, "The Elder Scrolls. How does a lowly little orphan thief wind up becoming one of the greatest heroes of his era?"

Arken smiled and looked at her, "That's a story that so far-fetched, no one will believe it, love." Arken looked up at Martin as he ascended the steps, "But I think this chapter has finally drawn to a close."

Arken and Fynix had faced the greatest threats of their day. They had stared down Mehrunes Dagon, braved the fires of Oblivion, fought blade and claw against daedra, defeated the servants of evil, not through strength of arms, but through their strength within. Through a power beyond that of magic or sword, two good men claimed the day from clutches of evil. What further exploits would they come to? What other adventures might they face? That is a tale to be told another time.

"…For when the next Elder Scroll is written, _you_ shall be its scribe." - Martin Septim.


End file.
